Catching Lightning in a Firewhisky Bottle
by WriteAlong
Summary: Hiding his identity behind a drunkard's facade, a broken and drunken wizard stumbles about - and accidently right into the past! Being just in time to save his parents from Voldemort, Harry Potter realizes that there was only one thing he could do. "Time tah f'cking sober up." Timetravel. Hidden Identity. Master of Death.
1. Chapter 1 Whisky

Don't own Harry Potter. Un-betad, therefore read at your own risk.

**Catching Lightning in a Firewhisky Bottle**

by **WriteAlong**

**. . . . . **

_Catch lighthing in a bottle - to do the impossible _

. . . . .

"You are drunk…"

Said 'drunk person' groaned as he opened his eyes, bits of snow stuck to his eyelashes. The world swayed as he tried to focus on the sound. _Where the hell was he? _

"Wha cha talk'n 'bout?" He managed to slur, wondering why his tongue wasn't working properly. _What had happened again?_

He weakly protested when he was pulled up before his arm was slung over someone's shoulder. Its owner grunted as the stranger leaned heavily on him. The drunk's inability to stand made it difficult to take the first steps through the freezing snow.

"No seriously Mister… you _really_ are." The young man grumbled as they stumbled on.

"R'ly?" His voice sounded incredibly surprised, completely forgetting about the fact that he had been trying to escape the younger man's grip.

"Incredibly so." The young man supporting him humored him, eying the bottle of very strong Firewhisky in the man's hand.

That was quite expensive stuff. To drink that in one go… he must really have been trying to forget something.

"Duh!" The drunk started laughing harshly. ""I'm ash sober ash 'm gonna git. And nuffink I – wait."

The raven-haired drunk man paused thoughtfully as he tried to figure out what he was trying to say to his rescuer. "And! There's nuffink you can do 'boutit."He finished with a solemn nod, which his whole body accidently seemed to follow. This in turn made the two of them tumble to the ground as the younger man couldn't hold them up any longer.

Both of them groaned as the icy snow enveloped them.

The sober man pushed himself to his feet again and looked down on the drunken man that was still groaning quietly. He sighed to himself, wondering why his conscience had to get the better of him when he had spotted the drunk in the freezing snow. In these horrible times, it wasn't that unusual to see drunken people at night, but they usually stayed at his Dad's pub or at home.

He hadn't looked like he would have moved any time soon.

The young man tried to lift the other man to his feet, but it was of no use. He rubbed his forehead, knowing that the pub wasn't that far away. His father would be there, he knew.

"Damn that magic rule." He wasn't allowed to cast spells yet. "I need some help. You eh… stay right here. Okay?"

"Shre"

He didn't have a clue what the man had said but nodded anyway.

"Right. I will be back soon."

He hoped.

* * *

Waking from his snooze, the drunk's green eyes automatically snapped open as he heard them approach, their boots crunching the snow beneath them.

Light entered his vision as they arrived at his fallen form.

"Daniel, you really have to be more careful with trusting people." The older man admonished as he met the absent gaze of the raven-haired man at his feet.

The teenager twitched. "But Dad, he might have died. There are too many people dying as it is."

The man sighed, knowing that his son had a point. "Still…"

"Ya should lissen to ya Dad." A voice slurred the man's green eyes were strangely focused on them. "Cnstn Vigilansh!" The man cried out indistinguishably, lifting a finger for emphasis. Having no energy, it soon flopped back to the ground.

The father figure squatted, leaning over the man. The light from the lamp that he carried shone down on the man's face. He didn't know him, but he looked vaguely familiar.

"Who _are_ you?"

"I'm…" The man muttered, frowning as he scratched his stubbly beard.

Something flashed across his face and he said a little louder. "I'm…"

The two men held their breath.

"Drunk!"

The two men sighed, while the drunken man erupted into loud laughter, which eventually sounded more like sobbing than actual laughter. The father gave his son a pointed look.

"You sure know how to pick them."

The teenager shrugged, looking away and grumbling something under his breath.

"Let's get him a room and let him sleep it off. Just make sure that someone with a wand keeps an eye on him." He told him as he brandished his wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

Unfortunately, the spell didn't have the effect that they had hoped. Sure the man was lifted from the ground, but the man's reaction was rather violent. The two men started as the man's green eyes widened in panic and started screaming. "No! Leggo! Leggo! NO! Lemego!"

He struggled - no _fought_ – aggressively against the spell and actually _managed_ to break it _without wand_ and get out of it. Never before had either of the men see something like that happen.

'Drunk' fell to the ground, somehow managing to catch himself. "Deatheaters!" He hissed dangerously as he swayed. "How dit ya find me? I'll kill ya Voldie-master ya her me?" He heaved his bottle back –

A flash of a spell later and the apparently Not-Death Eater was back on the ground, unconsciousness.

"You sure know how to handle drunkards." Daniel jabbed back to his father, whom coughed awkwardly.

"Let's try that again, shall we?"

At least, the man seemed to be an enemy of the enemy, the pair decided. No-one in their right mind would say the name of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named like the man had just done.

No matter how drunk. Well… except for this one that is.

* * *

"How is our newest guest doing?"

Rosmerta, who had been cleaning the bar, turned to her boss and smiled as she spotted the dark circles under the man's eyes. The man sighed and rubbed his head.

"Daniel really picked out a bad one to help out." Daniel Senior answered the barmaid and nodded thankfully as she held out his cup of coffee.

"Lucky him." She started as she continued to wipe the bar. "He should be glad that Daniel found him. Is he at Hogwarts again?" The father hummed in confirmation as he took, in his opinion, a well-deserved sip of hot coffee.

"Are you waiting until the stranger is sober? I noticed he made a ruckus."

"He is giving me even more grey hairs already." Dan agreed, moving his hand though his short brown-but-greying hair. "Hopefully he will be sober. No matter what Daniel and I tried, we couldn't get rid of his liquor." Dan pondered. "We have no clue how he manages to do that."

The girl's interest perked and she leaned forward. "He casted spells on his liquor?" This would be a great story for the guests tonight. An amusing story to laugh at, that was what everyone wanted nowadays.

"It's ridiculous." The man agreed, smiling slightly nonetheless. "The moment you don't look at it. It disappears back to the man's side. When we get rid of the whisky itself, it returns to the bottle. We eventually had to resort to find a way to keep the bottle closed, so he can't drink out of it."

The girl whistled.

"Neat! Could he teach me that?"

The smile disappeared. "I'm not sure if he wants to do anything when he is sober again. After he finally calmed down and decided we weren't… one of them. He seemed to stop caring. We helped him in bed. His wand seemed to have been broken and when we helped him out of his clothes… I think he has been tortured."

Rosmerta twitched, but couldn't help but ask meekly. "How bad?"

"I'm glad that Daniel had left by then."

"That bad?"

"_Really bad_." The man sighed unhappily.

The two of them remained silent for a moment before a third party interrupted.

"By _him_?" A female cook shakily asked as exited the kitchen and approached the pair. "Sorry, I couldn't help but listen in."

"I don't know." The man admitted but his eyes turned heavy. "Though by the looks of it, it wouldn't surprise me."

"Poor man." The bubbly woman muttered and Rosmerta nodded. Their eyes were troubled.

"Keep this to yourselves." The boss told them warningly. "No blabbering, you hear me?! If people are after him…"

The pair nodded.

"Anyway. Back to work!"

"Yes Dan!"

* * *

Unfortunately, but just as he expected, the stranger was still drunk the next morning.

Dan knocked and waited, wand in hand. He didn't get a reply and therefore he slowly opened the door. There were no curses flying towards him, so he regarded it somewhat safe. As he walked into the room – his wand ready just to be sure - it took a moment to find the drunkard.

Said man was currently in the process of throwing up in one of the baskets in the room. His hands were shaking badly, rattling the bucket in the process. His wild hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. The man groaned and feverish eyes landed on him.

"K'll me." He groaned.

Dan started and hesitated, before he answered. "I'm sorry, I don't follow."

"I sh'ld be dead!" The man spat, trying to stand up, but failing. The bucket fell sideway to the ground, while the man himself fell back against the wall. He slid to the ground sat there pathetically, looking at up at the dim light in the room. He breathed heavily and groaned. Sweat continued to drip down his face.

Dan slowly approached the unsteady man. The boss may have a lot of experiences with dealing with drunks – it was not the first time that people spoken to him like this – but this man seemed to be on a whole another level.

"Did something bad happen?" He cautiously asked as Dan crouched down halfway the room, not wanting to get any closer.

"Bad?" The man repeated with a slur. "Bad?" He repeated again, louder this time. "They k'lled her! She- She. She wash good! _Good_!" He yelled, stumbling over his words.

He clenched his fist and punched the wall behind him in an attempt to release his distraught emotions. "I couldn'tdo _anyth'ng_! I could not safe her!" He growled.

"I didn't! I- She died! Just like them! I failed them too! Like _everyone_!"

Whisky's hands landed on his face and he rubbed it angrily. Dan watched uncomfortably as the broken man in front of him broke down.

"I dunno wanna know anymore." The man muttered, reaching for the flask of Firewhisky on the ground. He took a swig, only to find out that nothing came out. He moaned. "Nooooo…. Pleash. No." He slurred and let out a wringed sob.

Dan tried to be strong, but watching the man writhe so brokenly before his eyes was too much. Soon he couldn't take it anymore and canceled the spell.

He watched with heavy eyes as the man gulped down the liquid like it was his last resort. Finally he calmed somewhat and his eyes dimmed.

Dan frowned. Its effects were too quick._ Was it really only Firewhisky in there? _

Taking a deep sigh, the inn owner carefully approached the man again and slowly held out his hand. "Maybe you should lie in bed and sleep." He stated as he watched the pained man lock eyes with him.

"Sleep?" The man repeated, his slur back in place. He squinted at his hand and then once more at his face – locking eyes with him in the process. Dan felt an odd shiver run down his spine before the man slowly nodded and reached out to accept his gesture.

Dan moved his hand to the right to make sure that the man didn't miss it and pulled the man up. Helping him into bed, he made a mental note to warn his staff to be careful with this one. Dimming the light, he took one last look back, before he let the man sleep.

That is, as peacefully as a broken man could.

* * *

. . . . .

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	2. Chapter 2 Glass's

**"Catching Lightning in a Firewhisky Bottle **

Chapter 2: Glass's

. . . . .

_Catch lightning in a bottle - to do the impossible_  
. . . . .

* * *

From the moment the drunkard had regained consciousness in the snow, something had been nagging him. It shouldn't have been snowing. Right? Had he tried to obliviate his own memories again?

The wizard had shrugged mentally and rolled with it. Luckily, he was pretty sure that the light glamour was still in place. Normally when it fell away people would recognize him, fawn over him and be ridiculously worried. It didn't do that much, but changing his facial structure slightly made a big difference.

This time, he had been brought to some inn, which had looked very much like an inn that he knew – but he had pushed that thought away with another swig of his liquor.

The glamour had been inspired by the time that his friend had used that hex on him to change his face when they had been captured…

He almost automatically took yet another long swig of his own mixture of Firewhisky. A few different potions were added to it, seeing as after years of trying to forget, alcohol alone didn't work very well. Some potions supported his glamour, while others helped to make his thoughts hazy. As long as he remained calm, it would be effective.

It was very useful to keep his friendly drunkard role. The people on the streets were surprisingly accepting of him and he had liked that. He paid his bills and wasn't violent so they often appreciated the comical presence that he provided.

He wasn't ready for all the fame that he would have received. He had seen their initial reaction and fled. Yet another Dark Lord killed! Vanquisher-of-the-Dark-Lords!

He didn't want people to fawn over him and befriend him, because they wouldn't be his real friends. They wouldn't be able to replace his family. The family he hadn't been able to protect in the end. The marks on his body would always remind him of that. He just wanted to be left alone. He was alone after all. He mentally shrugged off these absent thoughts.

He would gladly be this _'Whisky'_ the rest of his life.

Now, ever since he was brought back to the inn by the nice owner, something had been nagging him. Things were too familiar. Especially the barmaid seemed very familiar.

Now only if he had his glasses….

* * *

Two days, the stranger had been staying at his inn already. Every morning, the man would stumbled down and put a coin on the bar to pay – way too much - for the night before stumbling back upstairs. Otherwise, Dan didn't see much of him as 'Drunk' was surprisingly quiet and isolated. The cook – being the mother hen that she was – had been oddly concerned. So she had brought him some food upstairs.

This had in turn made Dan worried as she had come back down with wide eyes.

"Did something happen, Julia?" Dan asked, quickly checking up on her. She didn't seem hurt, but her shocked expression made him guide her back to the empty kitchens.

"What's wrong Jul?" He asked softly, gently shaking the shoulders of the employer that he knew more than twenty years.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she held out her trembling hand, in which she held a small pouch. Suddenly tears spilled from her eyes and started sobbing.

Now very worried, Dan carefully took the pouch from her hands and settled her in a nearby chair. His eyes widened when he recognized the feeling, the weight and the sound it made as he shifted it in his hand.

"Money?" He asked, incredibly surprised. His surprise doubled when he looked inside.

_Galleons! Even he didn't have that much! _

Taking a deep breath, he quickly gave it back. He wouldn't dare take it from her. He knew her too well and she needed it. He momentarily wondered whether she had stolen it – was she so desperate now? – before he quickly pushed that thought away. She wouldn't. She was too honest. Plus, she was a bit of a coward and their new quest had been very intimidating.

"Julia, tell me what happened."

The bubbly cook took a deep breath and started talking, telling him that Whisky – short for Firewhisky, as they had unofficially been calling him, which was less offending than 'Drunk' – hadn't answered the door, so she had taken the dare to open it and peek inside.

"He was sleeping, but very badly. He was trashing and moaning and… I couldn't help go to him to wake him up. I was so stupid. I didn't think it through. You had told me that he had been tortured. The moment that I touched him-" Dan winched and studied her again, but except for looking a bit ruffled, she seemed ok.

"He –" She swallowed and shook her head to clear her thoughts. "It happened so quickly. One moment I stood and the next I was on the bed and he was on top of me, hands on my head staring down at me with terrified yet terrifying eyes."

Dan nearly stormed up the stairs, but she grasped his arm as she continued to ramble.

"His breathing was so fast and he stared into my eyes so deeply that I couldn't breathe. Then out of nowhere he started blinking and breathing even heavier, like he was having a panic attack. I couldn't help but apologize furiously. It was as if only then he realized what he was doing and jumped away from me. He nearly didn't dare to look at me again, making me feel so bad. He just kept staring at the food that had fallen to the ground – he stepped in it you see. I couldn't help but tell him it was alright, which it was! It was my own stupid mistake. So he stares at me again and walks towards me and…" She stopped rambling and paused for a moment to catch her breath.

Dan was glad as he had nearly lost track of what she had told him.

"He held it out so timidly and awkwardly that I couldn't help but accept it. He wouldn't have it back and fled towards the bathroom before I could."

"That's… nice of him." Dan managed to say, looking at the money. What an odd gesture, but Julia deserved it. Dan already knew how she would use it.

"That's not weird thing though…" The cook said hesitantly as she fumbled with the pouch. "It was as if he _knew_…"

"What do you mean?" Dan asked.

"You already that Sharon is very ill…" She started. "I didn't tell you that I was losing hope seeing as without that potion..." Julia looked up, tears streaming down her face. She barely managed to continue as she clenched her hand around the pouch of gold in her hand.

"He- he said that that should be enough for the potion medicine."

* * *

"How did you get here?"

Rosmerta started as the man's green startled eyes zeroed in on her. It was only a second that he seemed completely sober and _strangely_ sharp before his eyes glazed over again. The stranger stood on his toes on top of four piled barrels, unfazed - no matter how much they dangerously swayed. How the hell did he manage to stay on top of there? The strangers hand grasped the chain of the lamp suspended from the ceiling in an attempt to find support. His other arm was hidden the upper shelf as his hand fumbled around blindly to find the firewhisky he was surely looking for.

"Need a drink." He mumbled, his speech still slightly slurred, but he sounded dangerously sober.

"Why?" Rosmerta asked lamely, still staring at the barrels and winching as the chain of the lamp let out a creak in pro

His form stilled. "Just 'cause." He growled eventually and pulled out a bottle and inspected it, oddly close to his face.

"That's not a good reason."

He paused and peered at her, watching as she raised an eyebrow, which earned her a suffering sigh.

"I can't handle these kinds of surprishes well." He muttered, more to himself than to answer her. "Fucking Fate." He slurred.

"What kind of surprises?" Rosmerta probed.

"None of ya bloody business." He rumbled warningly.

The barmaid couldn't argue with that. So she shrugged and silently watched him repeat the process a few times – he kept bringing them up to his face really close - before curiosity got the better of her again.

"Is your sight so bad?" She blurted out before she could help it.

Luckily the less-drunken man didn't seem to mind and grunted.

"Lost meh glass's."

"I know a place where you can get new ones?" She offered not-so-discreetly. "They also have some spells to correct your eyesight."

She didn't get a reply. Instead the man grunted as he pulled himself up slightly to get to a bottle that was just out of his reach. Rosmerta fidgeted as the barrels nearly fell over. Somehow, the man leaned back just in time to steady them again, new bottle in hand.

He held it up to his face again.

"It's firewhisky." Rosmerta confirmed.

He turned to her once more. Yes, she was still there and it didn't seem like she would leave him alone anytime soon. So the man sighed tiredly.

"Glass's huh?" He pondered before he gestured at the bottle. "Can I take this with me?"

A friend of Julia's was a friend of theirs.

"Sure." She agreed easily before once again glancing nervously at the pile of barrels. "Now how are you going to get down?"

The man looked down questioningly before nodding.

"Good question."

Rosmerta blinked when, just ten seconds later, the man walked out of the room – swaying and sipping on his new drink. What the hell… She stared back towards the barrels that were all back in their original place, trying to remember the acrobatic yet very-drunken looking maneuver the man had just done.

Whisky seemed to be full of surprises.

"Ya commin girl?"

* * *

"Now hold still for a moment." A dull voice muttered.

The drunk forced himself to freeze as the specialist in front of him waved his arms about. He felt his eyes tingle and immediately analyzed what the magic was doing. Interesting… It created an extra layer just outside his eye. Something like contact lenses it seemed.

"Please open them now and read the letters on the board."

Peeking one eye open, Harry had to admit that this felt a lot better than he had feared. He glanced at the board and then back down the bottle he was holding unto. He peered at it and nodded. He swayed as he pushed himself back to his feet.

"Thanks doc." He garbled as he fumbled for a coin in his pocket.

"But-" The specialist stuttered, surprised that his costumer was leaving already. The coin that the drunkard put in his hand shut him up. He turned towards the girl that had accompanied his newest costumer with questioning eyes.

Rosmerta just shrugged. "I guess he thinks that it is fine." She told him, trying to suppress her laughter as she saw the befuddled look on his face. She quickly followed her guest out of the shop, back towards the inn.

"Do you approve?" Rosmerta asked from behind.

He slowly turned around and froze.

"What?" She asked worriedly as she saw the alarmed and puzzled look on his face.

Then it disappeared just as quickly and the man shook his face. He tipped his head back as he gulped down his liquor. Rosmerta frowned and pushed the bottle down.

"What's wrong?"

"Nuthing."

For some reason, Rosmerta didn't believe him. She told him so.

"Ish Nuthing, I tell ya!"

Her eyes narrowed, but she dropped the subject nonetheless.

"Want a drink?" She offered.

* * *

"What's tha date?"

The bald man next to him startled as someone poked him. "What?"

"What's the damn date?" Whisky – as the guests now also knew him as – repeated with a suffering sigh. He took a large gulp from the strong stuff Rosmerta had let him try. It was good, but he preferred his own mix better.

The guest wrinkled his nose as a wave of liquor washed over him.

"October 29st…" He replied, pondering whether he should find a new spot. He didn't get the chance though. He yelped in surprise as his newspaper was suddenly ripped out of his hands.

"1981?!" Whisky slurred. "Ya f'cking _kidding_ me?"

The man remained oddly silently as his eyes flashed. His eyes ran over the rest of the paper. He sprung up from his chair and stumbled to another costumer. A few bystanders present held their breath as he rudely leaned over his shoulder to check the date as well, knowing that that particular man was particular vicious towards those that wronged him.

"Get off!"

Whisky was roughly pushed back and hit the bar with a loud thud. He stayed there silently for a moment before stumbling back to his seating spot. The bald man he had robbed from his narrowed his eyes at him, as he leaned back against the counter.

"Ya alright?" The Rosmerta asked cautiously, trying to look into the man's eyes but failing as it was covered by the man's dark wild hair.

His whole frame was shaking.

"Can I have that back?" Baldy demanded after a few minutes. It was only the rumors around this place that had prevented him from stealing it back again. No-one wanted to be on Julia's bad side.

Whisky took a deep breath.

"Or do you want to know the time as well?" Baldy added sarcastically and spluttered as the paper was shoved back in his face.

"I know what time it is." The previously very drunk guest answered, surprising the other costumer.

"What?" Rosmerta blurted surprised as she watched the man turn around and stumble towards the exit of the inn.

Green eyes flashed.

"Time tah fucking sober up."

* * *

. . . . .

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Till next time!


	3. Chapter 3 Sober

**"Catching Lightning in a Firewhisky Bottle**

Chapter 3: Sober

. . . . .

_Catch lightning in a bottle - to do the impossible_  
. . . . .

A very sober 'Whisky' watched with narrowed eyes as _he_ stalked up to the house. He looked on as that damn archenemy of his raised his wand towards the brave man blocking his way behind the door, making his heart clench. Within a second, he appeared silently next to the defender. Said wizard stood surprisingly steady on his feet, desperate to protect what was _his_. He could respect that. He could respect his father for that.

'Patience.' He reminded himself. It had been a long time since he had been this tense.

The hidden presence, which actually seemed to be a second somehow-having-time-traveled Harry Potter, waited until the last second and then _sprang_. He looked as if he was nearly dancing under the cloak hiding him out of sight, while silently mouthing the spells under his breath.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green light filled the cramped hallway-

James Potter's eyes widened fearfully as the green flash surged towards him– knowing that his story would end.

At least, he thought it would.

Instead, something intervened. The young father grunted as a sudden invisible force slammed into him, pushing him back. His eye was drawn to the sickly green light and he watched with wonder as the curse collided with something else than him – he wasn't sure what it was – just above his chest, causing it to explode.

James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut.

He heard the vile creature enter his home, chuckle and walk past him. The situation made him feel absolutely livid as he was forced to watch his enemy continue towards Lily and Harry. James made to attack but he _couldn't move._ He couldn't do anything but curse and rant in his mind as his glazed eyes watched the ceiling above him.

He couldn't blink! Was he dead? He didn't feel his heart beat! He couldn't fucking breathe! _Oh gosh_! He had to protect his family! Move damnit! MOVE!

To say that the wizard was stressed, would be an understatement.

Out of nowhere, a voice interrupted his mental rants. "It will be alright. Sleep for now."

He didn't see anyone. For a moment James wondered whether his maybe-dead or oxygen-derived mind was playing tricks on him.

Then the world turned black.

* * *

James's savior quickly apparated silently upstairs, where Lily was now confronted by Voldemort. Harry watched with clenched fists as he saw the so familiar scene unfold. He felt the magic in the air and couldn't help but admire it. His mother's love was so _beautiful_.

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead —" She pleaded.

"This is my last warning —"

"Not Harry! Please ... have mercy ... Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything."

"Avada Kedavra."

What would be Voldemort's last words for a long time was the sign Harry had been waiting for. Harry had sprung to action before Voldemort had even finished the curse. A second later, Lily Potter fell to the ground, eyes unblinking.

His heart rammed so hard in his chest he thought Voldemort might hear it. Harry forced himself to breathe out silently, reminding her that she wasn't _really_ dead. It just looked eerily like she had.

He felt the atmosphere in the room shift. As he had expected, his mother had attempted to sacrifice herself anyway. He could feel her magic flow around the room warningly. It would strike and protect and Harry couldn't help but shiver at the fact that his mother had felt this kind of love for him.

He was not going to let her sacrifice her life though.

Harry noticed immediately when his old friend called Death had answered the ritual's call. Harry quickly glanced towards a shadow that appeared in the corner of the room and narrowed his eyes threateningly. He directed his magic towards it in warning – a command. The shadow stilled immediately. An icy shiver ran down his spine and Harry could feel its confusion and interest, before it shrank and simply watched.

He would talk to Death later.

Instead the Man-Who-Had-Conquered readied himself as he watched the last confrontation between Voldemort and The-Boy-Who-Would-Live take place. He soundlessly closed in on them until he nearly stood between the two. Then, the moment that the curse was cast, he released opened his cloak and jumped between the two.

It wouldn't do to hide from Death now. He barely met Voldemort's startled gaze before everything erupted into chaos.

Harry hadn't quite expected the amount of force that Voldemort had put into the spell – how could someone hate a small baby so much? - and was flung back as the green light hit him square in the chest. A pained his escaped him as his whole body burned in protest while his magic fought off the spell's effect.

Meanwhile, Lily's magic reacted.

Voldemort's intention had triggered Lily's protective magic focused on her baby, thus forcing his curse back, no matter that someone had stepped in between. That, or Harry was so identical to his younger self that with him being in danger, it had the same effect anyway.

A quite destructive one.

Baby Harry cried as the force of the two clashing forces of magic ran its course. The window exploded outwards and the whole room shook. Harry watched Voldemort's eyes widen in silent horror, but before the man could say anything, the curse had already rebounded and hit him head on.

Once again, only his robes remained.

Harry couldn't help but sigh in relief at the sight. The find details of why Lily's magic had once again acted didn't matter really matter to him, Harry decided as he pushed himself up. He was simply glad that everything had worked out well –

-or not, Harry thought as a sense of foreboding washed over him.

There was, of course, a tiny detail; one more thing that had remained behind - Voldemort's Horcrux. Having studied every book that one could find on Horcruxes, Harry knew that it _should_ have gone to the one that Voldemort had targeted to kill. Baby Harry.

There was only one problem that the older Harry had not quite anticipated, a tiny detail that wasn't often spoken of. Of the few Laws of Nature that certain magic in actually followed – the law of the least resistance was one of them. Somehow in the clash of magic, this had won out over the much vaguer Rule of Intent that was taught more often.

So, instead of creating a new rip in the poor Baby's Harry's healthy soul, it nestled into a certain space that it had safely resided in before. Well, it had resided there in the non-existent future at least. Meaning that it targeted that damn cursed scar of his.

It wasn't a gentle intrusion into his mind either. Feeling as if his head was torn into pieces, Harry couldn't hold back his pained scream as he sunk to the ground. Luckily it didn't last long. He gasped in relief as the feeling lifted; replaced by an incredible headache that put every hangover Harry had ever head to shame.

Harry groaned pathetically as he pulled himself up and realized what had just happened. Barely one minute had passed, but a lot had changed.

The future The-Boy-Who-Lived had once again Lived.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was no more. Well… for the next decade at least.

And the current time-travelling Master of Death had managed to get a fucking Horcrux stuck in his forehead once.

_Again_.

He cursed himself as he leaned heavily against the crib, holding his ribs. "Damnit! Bloody fucking hell!" He muttered and turned towards the corner in which Death still lurked and looked at him pointedly.

"I don't suppose you can take this fragment with you when you leave?"

The shadow disappeared promptly, causing the wizard to sigh.

"I take that as a no then."

He turned around and he quickly lifted the complete paralysis on his mother, just like he had done with his father minutes before. A minute without air wasn't that bad right? Irrational fear still reared its head and he held his breath as his eyes zeroed in on her chest. He sighed in relief when he heard her gasp for air and started breathing again. Merlin, that was close.

The Master of Death turned shakily back towards the baby to check up on him, only to realize that he was still crying. He grimaced. The loud wails didn't do his pounding headache any good, but the distraught look on the boy's face forced him to put the pain aside.

His neglected father instincts re-awakened surprisingly easy as he shushed the boy. Gently, Harry picked up the young boy, cradled him in his arms and swayed soothingly. The boy calmed almost as soon as he was in the older man's arms and looked up at him with wide eyes. Harry felt his magic shiver as it recognized the other. Nearly the same, yet somehow not completely.

Interesting.

"Shhh…It's alright. See? You're not the one with a bloody scar now." He told the baby, as he pointed to his own now-bloody forehead that had finally stopped bleeding. He gently caressed the baby's forehead and frowned when he saw that actually a very faint familiar scar had in fact appeared on the baby's forehead. Though it was barely a tiny line - a nearly invisible and unnoticeable at that - he couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed.

He gently laid his hand on it, to scan for any dark magic, but there was only a shiver of residue that would disappear within a year. Baby Harry giggled as the magic tickled him.

Odd. He would never completely understand magic.

"See? You are perfectly healthy!" He assured the baby cheerfully. His eyes turned slightly somber as he continued. "Now let's get you back to your mother before people come to investigate."

As the wizard turned back around to look at their mother, he froze when he saw that her lively eyes desperately tried to look into their direction. Luckily, her gaze wasn't directly enough to look at him. Instead, it could only have been the fuzzy sight from the corner of her eye in which he had been seen. Shakingly, he quickly spelled her to sleep and swallowed.

Should he obliviate her?

He walked towards the woman and crouched down next to her form, taking a few precious seconds to study her. He watched as the baby in his arm reached for her and swallowed.

"I'm pretty jealous, you know." He told the baby, who looked at him questioningly. "At least I saved you from a pretty shitty childhood." He continued and poked the baby's nose. The baby wrinkled it in reply and Harry laughed hollowly. He sat the boy down on the ground.

"Time to finish this." He mumbled to himself as his hand reached for his wand, but his will weakened the moment he touched it. He couldn't do it. He couldn't force his mother to forget.

"It's not as if she really saw what I looked like right?" He asked his younger self, but he didn't receive an answer as the little boy was too busy with playing with his mother's hair.

Prying the hairs from the baby's fists, he picked him up again and carried him out of the room. "Let's get you both to a proper bed alright?"

The baby gurgled happily at him, his tiny fist now enclosed around his invisibility cloak, which was soon partly covered with salvia.

"I take that as a yes." Harry nodded as the baby continued to drool all over his cloak.

"This is so weird."

* * *

"Lily! Harry!" James yelled as soon as he got back to consciousness.

"They are safe in the bedroom."

The furious father swirled around towards the voice – only to find nothing.

"Where and who are you?" He growled, his wand erupted with sparks. "Accio!" He yelled, but nothing happened.

"I see that you are familiar with an invisible cloak Mr. Potter, but this one only answers to me I'm afraid." "The voice stated. "Don't bother trying to find me. Voldemort is gone. Oh and you better call your friends over before they do something stupid. I'm sure people will think you have been killed after that explosion a few minutes ago."

_Explosion_?

James had only half-listened to what the man was saying as he rushed up the stairs. He gasped fearfully as he saw the state of the room.

"Da!"

His attention snapped to his own bedroom, to find his wife and child safe and sound. He felt all his energy leave him. He stumbled towards them and touched them as he sunk to his knees.

He watched as his boy smiled at him and heaved up his arms. "Da!" He proclaimed again.

Within moments James cradled the two of his most dearest people in his arms and sobbed silently. He had no idea who had saved them, but he was internally grateful.

Baby Harry didn't really understand why his father was acting so oddly, but didn't care. Lying between his parents after those stressful moments, the Boy-Who-Lived was more than happy to fall asleep.

Dreaming of things only babies could.

* * *

"Whisky?" An joyful voice called out.

"Wha?" The man startled awake from his tiny corner and turned to Rosmerta who watched him with an odd expression. He noticed her glance at the unused bed and then back to his tiny messy corner that was littered with different kind of liquor. He sat hunched over, leaning with his elbows on his knees as he stared down at the bottle clenched in both hands.

"Aren't you coming down to celebrate?" She asked softly, her previous cheer suddenly dimming.

"Nah."

"Why not?"

"Dusn't bring back tah liffing ya know." The man slurred, pointing a bottle at her. "Persons shaved not _mah_ fam'ly. Not really _mine_." He muttered under his breath, so softly that Rosmerta barely heard him..

The barmaid didn't have a clue what he was talking about, but she that sometimes is was simply better to play along.

"Shouldn't you be happy for them though?"

The man let out a guffaw but didn't answer. He took a swig from his bottle, only to find it empty. He sighed and held it up. "Th'ts mah life! Empty!" He told her and his eyes dimmed again.

"Stuck. Not belonging here. Fucking Fate." He mumbled.

Rosmerta recognized the way his eyes glazed over and sighed. He was back in his memories.

'At least, your tormentor is dead?' She wanted to say. 'He can't hurt anyone anymore, focus on that thought.' She could have told him, but didn't.

It didn't seem fair to him. She knew that he had probably lost everyone dear to him. Sometimes he couldn't completely hide the broken look in his eyes, he startled when someone unexpectedly touched his tormented body and his need to stay drunk in order to dim his memories said more than any amount of words could.

He was right. He didn't have any reason to celebrate, did he?

Still. It bothered her, to see him sitting there.

Swallowing, Rosmerta stalked forwards and carefully sat down next to him. They continued to sit there for a moment, looking at flame that the lone candle on the floor provided.

After a long time of pondering over his words, Rosmerta couldn't help but break the silence.

"Would they want you to keep your life empty though?" She earned a confused look, so she elaborated.

"The people you lost. Would they want you to remain empty?"

Something flickered across his green eyes as Whisky looked at her with a surprised expression. Then a faint grin broke through and he chuckled grimly. "Dunno. Guess not."

He sighed and shook his head. He held out the bottle to her which she accepted hesitantly.

"Smart g'rl, ya are." He told her with a slur. "Don't evah become me." He said solemnly as he gestured to the empty bottle. "Now go enj'y yerself."

She paused, sensing the dismissal. Though she was dismayed with his refusal, she couldn't actuallhy force him to come down so she raised herself to her feet. She paused at the door, hand on the doorknob.

"Julia wants you to spend Christmas with us." She told him..

"So please, don't disappear on us tonight alright?"

Harry grunted and heard her shut the door behind her, leaving once again to his antagonizing lonely peace. It wasn't like he had any place better to be. They were good people to invite him.

The Master of Death stared at the candle again.

"First I lose everything. Now I'm back to save everything." He blabbed to himself. "Fucking Fate, how it that fair? I saved my parents, only to become… "He couldn't finish his sentence.

He remained in his room the whole night, watching the candle burn until nothing remained.

The next morning, Julia wasn't amused when she found him sleeping in the exact same spot.

It brought a ghost of a smile to his face.

* * *

. . . . .

That's it for now.

Sadly, I don't get much respons. I'm not doing so well, aren't I?

Please write something down below.

Hopefully till next time.


	4. Chapter 4 Recall

**"Catching Lightning in a Firewhisky Bottle**

Chapter 3: Recall

. . . . .

_Catch lightning in a bottle - to do the impossible_  
. . . . .

The wizarding world was in uproar. Everywhere, Death Eaters were being arrested, while prisoners were freed. Some fled their houses, while others finally dared to leave their own. Creatures of the dark retreated to their own territory, while others breathed in relief as they returned to their home.

Celebrations, jokes, laughing – it was a wave of happy and relieved emotions that washed over the wizards and witches. The sense of euphoria affected nearly everyone. Guilt of doing nothing and cowardly actions were swapped with boastful exclaims of 'I was just about ready to join the fight' and 'I knew he would be taken down soon!'

Rumors and speculation of what had happened flew about – one even sillier or weirder than the next. The Potter's had set a trap, using their child as bait. A _baby_ of all things had killed the Dark Lord! No! They had all been killed and Dumbledore had put an end to him! Often, people didn't know what to believe anymore.

Accidently, the excitement also carried across to the muggle world. More than a few muggles stared with wonder at all the weird activities that seemed to be happening that day. Were those clothes some kind of _robes_? Was it really raining stars? Children excitedly tugged at their parent's clothes and pointed at all the owls flying about.

A _certain_ muggle called Vernon Dursley had noticed these odd happening as well and had started to develop a feeling of extreme dreadfulness that his normal life might be disrupted. Having spotted a tabby that seemed far too intelligent, an awful amount of people in those weird clothes, as well as having been _hugged_ and congratulated by those weird robed strangers about someone- someone he in fact _did not know_ thank you very much! - made the man understandably nervous.

The last drop to tell his wife about his worries was the rumor that certain Potter's had 'in fact' been _killed_ and that their baby had killed _him_.

"Poor baby. Do they have any family that can take care of him?"

_Family_?

That day the whole wizard community – and now two worried muggles- waited with suspense for the answer for that one question:

What the hell had happened at the Potter's place?

* * *

At Potter's place, they hadn't quite managed to figure it out either. One thing was clear though…

"It was _fucking_ _Pettigrew_." James muttered angrily.

The shaken parents had claimed their places on one side of the table, while Harry was peacefully sleeping in his mother's arms. Remus and Sirius sat across from them, looking troubled. Their ruffled appearance and the way they evaded each other's eyes made Lily silently wondering whether they had fought.

James didn't seem to notice. Like Sirius, he was practically seething and probably was too focused on keeping himself in his seat instead of going out and hunting down that bastard! Lily would have gladly joined him, but she felt oddly empty. Maybe she was still in shock after all? She caught the worried eye of Remus in front of her and smiled in an assuring manner.

It didn't seem to assure the man very much though.

Dumbledore cleared his throat as he walked into the room, having checked the scene itself to find any clues.

"It is clean." The old wizard proclaimed and groaned as he took his place near the fire.

He had been rather distracted after having been lured to other attacks, the others knew. It was during the fight that his opponents had bragged about the Lord's plans. They had been defeated not much later and he had rushed here as fast as he possible could, only to find them safely in their bed, sleeping fitfully. He would have never forgotten the way James had shot out of bed, ready to curse him.

Once the man had recognized him, James had sat down tiredly and requested him to call his friends over. Albus had been curious why James had asked him to get his friends, but looking at the wound-up Sirius, it had been a good idea.

"You weren't the secret-keeper?" He had to check, looking at Sirius. The man looked even more furious, his hands clutched tightly.

"NO! I would never- Fuck it! I shouldn't have suggested switching it to that… Rat!" The man howled. He slammed his hand on the table, which earned him stern look from Lily as Harry moaned in protest. They held their breaths and released it when the baby stayed asleep.

"Sorry." Sirius muttered guiltily, crossing his arm. Lily simply sighed.

"We agreed to it. We didn't expect this to happen either." James placated him, while mentally blaming himself for agreeing.

Dumbledore sighed and nodded. "I'm incredibly sorry that this has happened, but I can only feel glad that all of you made it out safe. Is Harry alright?"

The two parents twitched and looked down on their son, who was still napping peacefully.

"Yes. Yes, he is." James confirmed. "But not thanks to me." He grumbled, more to himself than the others. Lily didn't answer, but leaned against his shoulder instead. At the moment, the gesture would tell James more than any words would.

"Why don't you take a shower and then we will talk." Albus suggested as he took in the parent's pale and high-strung forms. They wouldn't be able to say much at the moment.

The two nodded and stood. The visitors watched them leave, noting how lifeless their actions seemed. It was as if they were puppets.

"They will be alright." Dumbledore placated the two worried friends.

Sirius and Remus looked at each other uncomfortably. An awkward silence ensued as neither of the men spoke. Dumbledore simply watched them silently, his eyes meeting both of their eyes knowingly. The two barely looked into each other's eyes, but the moment that they did -

"I'm sorry for suspecting you." Black blurted when he saw the hurt in the man's eyes.

The werewolf sighed and nodded. "It's not the time and I'm sure that you had your reasons. It just… hurts. To make it even, for a moment I heard what had happened, I feared you might have hurt them as well."

The uneasiness between them decreased slightly. It would take a while to mend their friendships completely they knew, but they would figure it out.

"So Pettigrew. Who would have thought?" Dumbledore mused, as he thought back to the years they had all still been at Hogwarts. Albus admitted that he would have never expected it during those years. He had always seemed to be so loyal. Now though, the wizard could see so many signs. Peter had pretty much always been a follower, an easily scared one at that.

What a mess.

He glanced towards the still furious man in front of him. "Killing him now won't solve anything. James and Lily need you two." He warned them seriously, thought pointedly looking at Sirius.

Sirius relaxed slightly, but couldn't help but make a personal vow.

"The next time I see that fucking Rat, he better hide!"

* * *

"What's on your mind dear?"

Rosmerta startled and leaned back as the cook peered closely at her face. She spluttered out an evasive reply.

"Just thinking."

The cook smiled knowingly. "Thinking about a certain someone upstairs perhaps?" She asked, referring to Whisky.

"Not like that!" The girl growled, cheeks flushing slightly. "He's way too old!"

"Since when is love limited by age?" The woman teased and laughed when she saw her disturbed expression. She laughed as Rosmerta made a show of pointedly ignoring her and pretending to have been called out of the kitchen for 'something' – no matter that she couldn't possibly have heard any call as she was covering her ears with her hands.

When she returned, there was a comfortable silence between them as Julia cooked and Rosmerta cleaned after her and brought the guests their food once it was finished. They chatted about the rumors they heard – could a baby really have killed Voldemort? – before they inevitably turned their topic to Whisky once again.

Somehow, the drunken wizard had slipped into their lives so naturally that it only seemed obvious that he was present. Plus, the man had so many mysteries and contradictions about him that people couldn't help wonder but about him.

"He still hadn't come down yet." Rosmerta complained to the cook, who was still enthusiastically producing more food than people would be able to eat. The cook too had been in an incredible good mood ever since they had heard the news that _he_ was no more.

"I'm sure he will be alright." The cook tried to assure her, but she didn't quite seem to believe her own words either.

Rosmerta regarded the cook for a moment before she hesitantly asked. "Are _you_ alright?"

The cook stilled, before she put down the knife with a sigh.

"I'm glad that it is all over. I still miss my daughter every day dear, but I have been mourning her for many years. She protected Sharon with her life. I know that she was the most important to her. The best thing I can do is to live on and to care for Sharon." She shot Rosmerta a teary smile.

"And now with that potion almost being ready, I will be able to care for her for many more years." She continued thankfully, emotions getting the better of her.

"I'm glad." Rosmerta said, hugging the now happily-crying older woman. Slowly they released each other and broke out laughing.

"He-who-must-not-be-named is gone and it is like Whisky is the only thing we can talk about."

"Well, he deserves it more than _that vile creature_. Whisky is a good man." Julia grumbled. "He just needs some people to care about him."

Rosmerta's expression turned slightly worried again. "I don't know how he does it, to lose everything and still manage."

"At least he is still eating." The cook attempted to sound optimistic.

A suspicious pause made her turn back to the girl who wasn't meeting her yes.

"He _is_… right?" The older woman asked forebodingly.

"…"

"_Rosmerta_…"

"Actually…I'm not really sure?" The barmaid started sheepishly, knowing how obsessed the cook could be when it came down to making sure everyone was fed properly.

Just like that, a dangerous glint appeared in Julia's eyes. "When has he eaten last?" She asked warningly, causing the girl to swallow.

"Y-yesterday?"

Within a minute the female cook barged right into Whisky's room, while barely having taken time to knock.

"I have had it Whisky or whatever you name is. Come down _right_ now." She snapped before she paused in her step.

Whisky barely looked up from his creation. A large tower from carefully piled bottles stood before him. How had he ended up with so much liquor? Julia wondered. She made mental note to check the cellar.

"Don't wanna." Whisky mumbled almost inaudibility.

Absorbed in his work, the drunk reached out with a swaying hand to place another bottle on the pile. However, the moment the bottle touched his tower, everything crumbled and fell down to the ground. Whisky moaned as he watched his creation fall apart and turned accusingly towards the pleased-looking woman standing in his door opening. She put her wand back in her pocket and crossed her arms, expression turning serious.

"That's nut nishe." He told her, shaking his bottle at her.

"_That_ was asking nicely. I'm telling you one last time, come down to eat. _Now_."

Whisky let out a suffering sigh, recognizing a losing battle when a stubborn woman like her was involved. He reluctantly but obediently pushed himself to his feet, bottle still in hand.

"Yesh M'am."

When they arrived downstairs Whisky absently noticed the way Rosmerta shot Julia a thumbs-up, as well as the way that the woman grinned victoriously back at her.

Women.

* * *

Lily and James looked slightly better when they returned to the kitchen.

However, Lily still looked slightly pale as she sat down. James watched her worriedly, but followed her anyway. He gave her the now awake Harry, who squirmed in his arms in attempt to sit in his mother's lap. Both parents had been unable to let the other two out of their sight all day, too afraid that they would disappear.

"Can you tell us more?" Dumbledore prodded gently as Remus served them all tea. He turned to Lily first. "Did you see him?"

"I don't know who it was." The mother said softly as she hugged her baby close to her chest.

"He carried a cloak yes – probably the invisibility cloak that James mentioned before. I still remember the green light rushing towards me. Yet it never touched me. Something pushed me down just before that moment. It felt like being tackled before it disappeared. It froze me completely. The-" She swallowed heavily. "The killing curse exploded right in front of me – the way it does when it touches someone." She continued quietly, fighting down a croak.

"For a moment I thought I had really died. I couldn't move, not even breath, but I remained consciousness. It was so confusing."

She looked up at Dumbledore with red eyes. "It was horrible, feeling so helpless." She breathed, shaking.

"I thought he was going to kill Harry and I couldn't do _anything_. But, my magic in the room could sense that there was something else in the room. He appeared right when he cast the k-killing curse. I couldn't see him, except for a shadow on the floor. He stepped right in between them, right in front of _him_, just as the curse activated the defenses I had made for Harry. The shadow was flung back. I remember crying so hard in my head. I don't know what happened, but suddenly everything went silent except for Harry's crying and the man's screaming. I never heard someone in so much pain." She let out a shuddering breath and looked down at her son, as if to remind herself that everything was alright.

"The next thing I know is that the stranger lifted the paralysis on me just enough to breath. I managed to look at him from the corner of my eyes. I couldn't see much except for a greyish cloak and dark hair. Then he took Harry." She let out a strangled noise. "For a moment I thought he would do something to him, but he soothed him instead. He joked as if it all had been nothing. He saved my boy. He saved you." She looked at James with teary eyes.

James put a hand on her shoulder and she laid her hand onto it. "I thought you died." She muttered to him.

"I thought so too." He agreed with her.

"So your magic deflected the killing curse?" Their old mentor repeated slowly, mystified. Remus and Sirius also looked stunned.

Lily shook her head. "Maybe, in a way, but I should have been dead. The old ritual requires an eye for an eye, so to speak. Once the curse would have struck Harry, it would have killed him and demanded a sacrifice. So much magic… "

"It would have killed you instead." Dumbledore mused, earning a shaky nod.

"But if I had just died…" Lily continued.

"All magic would have been able to protect Harry anyway." Dumbledore nodded in understanding.

Another silence fell upon them, each of them pondering how she was even alive. "Was the man struck by the killing curse?" Remus offered.

"I don't know." Lily admitted, which raised even more questions. Surviving the killing curse seemed impossible.

"He spoke to me." James spoke up. "First when I had been… nearly killed. He assured me that it would be fine. Then, when I woke up he was there again. I'm sure he was the one waking me."

"What did he say?"

James closed his eyes, trying to think back to the man's words. He had been too focused on Lily and Harry. "Something about me realizing that he was hiding beneath an invisibility cloak. I couldn't summon it though. 'Don't bother trying to find me' and 'Voldemort is gone.' The last thing he said was something about calling my friends."

Sirius twitched uncomfortably as Remus frowned before speaking slowly. "After you called I came down her to check on you. On the way in, Sirius here was leaving. I had to run after him and stop him rather forcefully from hunting down Pettigrew." He muttered, earning a glare from the man next to him.

"I nearly had him as well." The man growled.

"It wouldn't have been safe." Lily finally spoke softly. "I'm glad that you are all here. I didn't want to Harry to have no godfather."

Sirius flinched slightly.

"I have a request to make." Dumbledore decided to cut in.

The group looked at Dumbledore as he took out two vials and looked at them with a regretful expression.

"I'm sorry to ask this of you, but could you please - now the memory is still vivid – put it aside? We could look at it again to figure out who helped you."

"We owe him our lives." James nodded slowly before his expression turned icy. "I will be keeping them here for now though. You can look in our pensive."

Dumbledore nodded slowly – having much preferred to be able to look at them himself but he refused to ask it from them. Taking someone's memories with you was regarded as very personal. Voldemort was gone, he reminded himself. Everyone could use some rest and quiet. There was no need to be so cautious yet.

Seeing the man nod, James took out his wand and held it near his temple, shivering as he remembered the horrible events that had just passed. They watched as the memory swirled fiercely in the small vile – warning them for the strong emotions that were contained.

"I can't give an objective view." James muttered. "It's too early."

Dumbledore nodded and handed the other one over to Lily, whom shakily handed Harry to James. She brought out her wand as well and concentrated.

There was a long silence before Lily's hand lowered slowly until it rested under the table.

"Lil's?" James asked worriedly, looking at the pale face of his wife. His hand found her face and he startled as he felt tears hit his hand. "Lily?" He asked more firmly.

She looked him in the eye, eyes sad.

"It's not working." She breathed.

"I don't understand."

She brought up her hand again and cast one of the easiest spells. "Lumos."

Nothing happened. The atmosphere turned heavy.

"I can't cast magic, James."

* * *

Liked it? Faved it yet?

Next chapter: a certain Longbottom gets into trouble!

And where there is trouble... there is...?

Till next time!


	5. Chapter 5 Warm-up

Don't own Harry Potter. Un-betad, therefore read at your own risk.

**Catching Lightning in a Firewhisky Bottle**

by **WriteAlong**

_Chapter 5: Warming Up_

**. . . . .**

_Catch lighthing in a bottle - to do the impossible_

Interesting, the auror mused, as he took in the scene that they had stumbled upon. The fact that it didn't surprise him anymore was more telling than anything else.

Someone seemed to have a mission..

"We don't understand Frank, it is just like yesterday. Someone seems to be at work here, I tell you." A colleague whispered to him as they watched their colleagues transport a small group of unconsciousness Death Eaters that they had stumbled upon – again.

"Someone sure seems to have a grudge on them." Frank Longbottom agreed as he surveyed their surroundings.

Just like before, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The only sign that the group had been startled were the few scorch-marks on a tree. The attacker had probably moved in from that side. Unfortunately, seeing as they were in the middle of nowhere, that didn't _seem_ to tell him much. Frank Longbottom was a sticker to routine though and as such made sure to look at a map in the near future as always. It might give him some clue. It had done so in the past.

He inspected the ground between the marked trees, but couldn't find any footsteps. He knew that he shouldn't assume that it had been a man's job without any indication, but by the attacker's rash behavior, he couldn't help but informally identify him as such.

Of course, it could be a woman still, but from experience, Frank found that women were sneakier than this blunt approach. He decided not to tell his wife anything about his suspicions. She would probably like to change his mind.

His colleagues didn't comment when the man crouched down close the ground and carefully crawled-but-not-really-crawled about to look for any signs. Signs that might indicate that someone had been hit and fallen to the ground after being struck by a crucio curse, or had been injured, seeing as cutting curses had become many death eater's favorite.

No such signs. Being outnumbered and able to get rid of his tracks, the attacker knew what he was doing. It made Frank very curious.

He glanced up when someone crouched down next to him, careful to check the spot before he stepped there. Frank Longbottom had a feared reputation concerning messing up evidence.

"We found something." The man muttered and held out his fisted hand.

Accepting the small object that fell from the man's hand, Frank frowned.

"A galleon?" He examined, raising an eyebrow.

The auror shrugged. "One of the newbies – what's he called, Jimmy? - nearly put it in his pocket, but I made sure he learned his lesson. It's a fake though. I guess you should keep an eye on it and take it to the department. We couldn't find any dark curses at work."

Thomas wouldn't have given it to him otherwise, but Frank appreciated the gesture anyway. So Frank nodded his thanks as the man turned back to work. The Auror in charge couldn't help but to cast his own spells to check the object, but Frank couldn't find anything either. Odd.

He returned back to his previous place, where his friend was still watching the others work. Noticing that Frank was caught up with something in his hand, he leaned over to glance at it.

"What puzzles you so, Frank?"

Frank didn't pay him any mind as he brought the tiny object closer to his face and flipped it a couple of times. Inspecting it closely, Frank paused as he spotted writing on the side of the coin.

"In a tight situation and you can't stand the heat? Bring on the fire." He read out loud.

His colleague squinted at the object and shrugged. "A riddle? Is it a prank?"

"I'm not sure." Frank mused, but he put it into his inner pocket anyway.

"I'm more interested in the person who is seemingly helping us out."

* * *

Harry smiled slightly as a coin in his breast-pocket warmed for a second, before it quickly cooled again. He sneakily fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the rim, which had 'Frank Longbottom' written on it, before putting it back. It seemed that his target had received the coin. Good. He had been afraid that he would have to sneak into his house and plant it there.

That would have been troublesome; Harry decided as he scraped the last bit of food from his plate and savored its taste. He had to give it to Julia, her cooking was very good. He hadn't realized he had been that hungry.

"I saw that." The barmaid spoke up from the other side of the bar.

"Huh?" his intelligent reply followed.

"Don't play innocent with me." She said, leaning down to meet his eyes. "You _smiled_."

Oops. Had he really?

"I'm _drunk_." The 'drunk' Harry slurred and patted her cheek playfully. "Wouldn't dare pl'y with ya." He teased her and let out a chuckle as he watched her mouth fall open.

He couldn't help it. For now, most things were going according to plan, which put him in a good mood. Maybe he should play a prank to celebrate. He hadn't done that in a long time. He briefly recalled the pranking wars that he had with his boys and had to restrain his hand not to take a swing from his favorite mixture that helped him forget. He wouldn't do that to the _fond_ memories with his boys. It was only seconds later those other memories tickled in – their death had been quick, but still hurt so much – and he slipped some of the mixture in his current drink anyway.

As he took a mouthful, he didn't notice the shocked expression of the barmaid. He sighed in relief – and a little guilt – when the nasty memories blurred once again. He wouldn't be able to keep this up forever he knew, but he would work on that later. With the situation he was now in, everything was too sensitive.

In time, he would kick off, he told himself.

But not yet.

What the hell.

It took a while for the barmaid to process what the drunk in front of her had just said. The moment she did, she had looked over to Julia – who nearly always listened in – to check whether she had imagined it or not. The laugh on the cooks face told her enough and she turned back to Whisky.

"Did you just – " Rosmerta tried to recover but she couldn't finish the sentence.

"Wha?" Whisky asked, looking confused, swirling his drink. He suppressed another smile.

"You were _flirting_ with me?" She blurted, surprised by the fact that Whisky of all people – who had been incredibly depressed the last week – suddenly made a joke. A _flirty_ one at that!

The man spluttered at her. "Me?" He cried out dramatically.

"Yes you!"

The man took another swig from his bottle and scratched as his stubbly beard. His confused green eyes met hers. "Really?"

"You did!"

"Did what?" He asked, looking even more confused. "Wha did ya say?"

"You're impossible!" She complained, picking up his plate and putting it away.

A few other costumers chuckled behind them. Having been asked to join the spectacle by Julia, Dan watched the pair from just outside the kitchen. His face sported a silly grin, but he wisely remained quiet as he watched the barmaid get flustered.

Rosmerta glared at the frustrating wizard, cheeks slightly pink as she turned her back to him. "Don't confuse me, ya drunkard!"

"Nah, g'rl. Ya pretty and all, but I'm not your type." He placated her as seriously as he could, with his current state as it was, didn't come across as very serious.

She shot him a pointed look over her shoulder. "See! You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?" Whisky repeated, looking at her through his glass.

She proceeded to ignore his question. Whisky looked questioningly towards Dan who simply shrugged with an amused expression. Frowning, the drunk looked back towards the woman that was ignoring him.

"What wash she talking about?" He asked the man next to him, who simply shook his head. Giving up, Whisky finished his drink and pushed it towards the woman with a pleading expression.

"No."

"Pleash?" He practically begged her earning him a glare.

"I pay?" He added, looking somewhat smug that he had been able to come up with a good argument.

"You're impossible." She growled, but filled his glass anyway. Whisky took a few large gulps and sighed contently, before frowning thoughtfully at her.

"Imposhible. R'lly? Ish that even posh'ble?" He muttered under his alcoholic breath – before staring down into his now nearly-empty glass as if it would provide him an answer.

"Go to bed already." Rosmerta grumbled under her breath, knowing that no matter what she would say, the drunk always seemed to have a comeback. The more sloshed he got; the wittier he seemed to become.

Whisky nodded slowly, accidently shifting his weight a bit too far and tumbled to the ground with a loud thud. Dan leaned over the bar to make sure he hadn't broken anything and shook his head when he saw the man lying sprawled over the ground, but with his arm in the air in an effort to keep his drink safe.

Not a drop of liquor had spilled during the fall.

Dan heard Rosmerta scoff as she too leaned over the bar.

"And that was your last drink! House rule!" Rosmerta told him happily.

The only reply that she got was a disappointed moan from the fallen figure on the other side of the bar. A few costumers helped him up and empathically patted him on the back. Slowly but surely, they were becoming familiar with the odd friendly drunken figure.

"Sweet dreams Whisky!" Rosmerta called after him.

"Enjoy your headache!" She finished a bit too merrily Whisky thought absently as he stumbled towards the stairs, steading himself by leaning against several guests. They didn't even look surprised anymore and let him. Just before he disappeared he shook his fist at her.

"Ya enjoying tish way too mush!"

Rosmerta simply grinned.

* * *

Darkness and pain.

As he came to, Frank decided that he didn't like the situation he was in. He remembered having gone home, spending a free day at home and then as he got back to work… vaguely remembered taking a hit coming from behind him, before he had been knocked out. He peered from under his eyelashes and mentally curses when he saw the bare surroundings.

A fucking cell.

He looked down at his hands and clenched his teeth as he saw the short thick chain connect to his bound hands. His wand was – of course – nowhere in sight. Being wandless made him quite defenseless and his stomach turned. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to keep his breath steady.

The blood marks on the floor weren't helping.

Unfortunately, before he could completely calm himself, a loud screeching noise warned him that his peace had ended. He glared furiously at the hooded figures that entered his cell.

"Hello Longbottom. I hope you are comfortable." One of the men sneered.

Frank clenched his fist, refusing to reply to him. The Death Eater growled warningly at him and took a step forwards, but was stopped when one of the other's put a hand on the man's shoulder. With what Frank assumed to be a glare, the man stepped back.

"Don't be rude, my friend. We wouldn't want to upset our guest, now would we?" Death Eater number two said _way_ _too_ pleasantly as he approached the bound auror. The masked man leaned forwards, right into Frank's personal space in what must have been meant to be an intimidating manner.

Composing himself, Frank glared fiercely as he met the man's dark eyes.

"We want some information."

From that moment, Frank was more than convinced that he was going to die. Still they would be wrong to assume that he wouldn't go down with a fight. No matter how limited his options were.

Frank snarled at the wizard and leaned his head back against the wall to create a bit more space between their faces. He could see the amusement in the Death Eater's eyes as he watched him.

"There is only one thing I will give to you." He whispered under his breath.

The man's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And what may that be?" He almost purred in amusement as he leaned a bit closer to listen to him.

It was the wrong thing to do, as a cry of pain followed as blood dripped onto the ground.

"Crucio!"

The auror absently figured that the man hadn't appreciated Frank's head-butt aimed at his nose. Even through the pain, Frank couldn't help but smile bitterly. It had been worth it.

Alice, Sirius and James would have been proud of him.

* * *

Nobody noticed that deep within Frank's pocket - charged by the 'crucio's energy – a coin heated up to a dangerous heat. A rune activated, triggered said heat. It started to convert heat to energy even more effectively to charge even more and within a minute, the many hidden tiny runes that had carefully scratched into the coin had all been activated. The coin shone brightly and the text on the rim changed.

"Let's turn up the heat."

* * *

In another part of the country a rather sloshed-looking man staggered in his step and righted himself.

"Are you alright?" Another guest asked him.

"Mfine…Need to take a piss." The man slurred distractedly, stumbling rather quickly towards the other side of the room – towards the completely wrong door.

Dan shook his head and didn't bother stopping the seemingly confused and hurried form.

"He's completely out it. Is he always that drunk? "Another guest observed conversationally and Dan shrugged.

"I don't think I have ever seen him sober yet." He told the man, whom raised an eyebrow. Another guest hummed and joined their conversation.

"Sounds like a shitty life to me." He said, before actually pushing his drink away from him. "Maybe I shouldn't drink so much either." He mused.

"Hey, don't go and decrease my earnings." Dan joked.

"His life has been rather shitty, I think. He seems perfectly happy most of the time." Julia mused as she brought the guest there food.

"Merrily drunk." Rosmerta cut in.

Dan shrugged. "At least he is happy?"

The guests laughed and continued their conversation about the odd man called Whisky. His name was starting to become well-known around the village. It was during that conversation that one of the guests suddenly frowned and pointed something out, that they had somehow completely forgotten about.

"What is his real name anyway?"

The two staff members and their boss froze and glanced at each other, before realizing that neither of them knew.

"He never objected to being called Whisky." Julia realized.

"He never told us his name." Rosmerta agreed.

"We never asked." Dan finished before he glanced towards the door. "Can't we ask him?"

It was that moment that they all realized that the drunk had been gone for quite a while.

"Oh dear."

* * *

Will they manage to find out though...

Share your thoughts (reviews) and spread the love (favs)!

Till next time!


	6. Chapter 6: Heat

Don't own Harry Potter. Un-betad, therefore read at your own risk.

**Catching Lightning in a Firewhisky Bottle**

by **WriteAlong**

_Chapter 6: Heat_

**. . . . .**

_Catch lighthing in a bottle - to do the impossible_

The streets were dark, cold and quiet.

The few people that wandered had a clear destination in mind, a place to warm up and enjoy some company. Even though only a few weeks had passed, people were still celebrating the fact that Voldemort had finally fallen. After so many years of hiding and distrust, having felt the rush of celebrating together on the streets, many had gotten somewhat addicted to the warm company that it had provided.

For this reason, the bar The Two Broomsticks had gotten even more popular than ever before. Nearly every half hour, people entered. At the moment, another pair of visitors had just reached the door of said establishment.

"Finally, I really need a drink." The first man exclaimed.

"Liar. I have noticed the way you have been staring at Rosmerta lately." His friend standing behind him mused.

Rosmerta's admirer eyes widened as his hand wavered on the doorknob. "I have no idea what you are talking ab-"

The man wasn't able to finish his sentence, as without any warning, the wooden door of the entrance slammed open and right into a visitor's face.

The admirer was flung back before he staggered blindly as he reached for his possibly broken nose. Eyes tightly shut as pain hit his senses. His friend barely managed to catch him in his arms. Seeing as the pair of them was occupied – one having his eyes closed from the pain and the other looking at his friend in his arms – they didn't see the drunken figure practically barge right into them. A second later the three of them slammed into the ground and groans followed.

"What the fuck?"

"Bloody Hell!" The victim, still grabbing his nose, cried and opened his eyes to find their attacker. "_Whisky_?!" He groused. "Ya stupid drunk!"

Said momentarily disorientated drunken figure glanced at the bald man lying on the ground with a confused look in his eyes. "B'ldy?" He slurred in a distracted manner, as if barely recognizing the man as the frequent visitor that often sat at the bar with him. Quickly, the drunk seemed to dismiss the accident and struggled back to his feet. "S'rry, gotta go!"

Just as the words registered in 'Baldy's' head, Whisky took off in a stumbled run

"_Baldy_? You think you can bloody run off like that?" Said man yelled as he quickly stood up, ready to chase after him. He cursed when he didn't see any trace of him. No sigh of him in the streets. No footsteps in the snow. Nothing. It was as if he had simply vanished.

Odd.

"Where the hell did he go?" Baldy demanded his amused friend, before gratefully accepted the handkerchief from the man who simply shrugged at him. He gingerly touched his painful nose. Yup, his nose was bleeding. _Bloody hell. _

"No clue. You know, maybe he did you a favor, now you can ask Rosmerta to fix your nose." His friend placated him with a suggestive smile, causing Baldy to smirk and drag him inside.

"Quick, let's go in before it stops bleeding!"

He didn't catch the way his friend rolled his eyes at him.

* * *

In an alley not far from the Two Broomsticks, Harry skidded to a halt and leaned heavily again the wall. His drunken demeanor had vanished as soon as he had ducked into the empty alley. The previous fall and his actions had barely crossed his mind as he had rushed over here. He could now only focus on the increasing heat coming from the emergency coin located in his pocket. He had to go as soon as possible.

Harry had experience with that horrible curse. Every minute could make a difference.

With that in mind, after a quick inspection for any witnesses near the abandoned alley, Harry took a deep breath and produced his wand. A second later a brilliant light surrounded him and the familiar figure of Prongs circled him, his hoofs crunching the snow beneath him. Harry smiled slightly at the sight.

"Please go out and warn our little spy Prongs. Only approach him if he is alone. He will need to lower the shields. If he is not, return to me." He told the animal and watched it bow before it rushed out of the alley, towards its target.

Step one complete.

With another quick glance of his surroundings, the wizard held out his hands in front of him and started muttering things under his breath. The air surrounding him started to swirl around him, creating a whirlwind of snowflakes. The temperature dropped considerably and his warm breaths clouded the air in front of him. His glamour shivered slightly as an odd magic within him spiked. The moment he felt his spell being completed, his hand grabbed at the air. He smiled lightly when the cloak once again answered his summon. That was step two, now onto the next step.

While he covered himself with the cloak, Harry yanked on a cord on his neck, producing a tiny bag on a cord.

"Infinate incartum."

The bag enlarged between his hands and within seconds he jammed his arm into the opening. Reaching in with his whole arm into the tiny bag – as if it were a 'muggle' magic hat – he rumbled through the different objects within. Deciding that the two seconds were taking too much time, he focused on the object he was searching for.

"Accio Sober-up."

He felt a tiny bottle hit his hand and quickly withdrew his arm. With a fluid movement the wizard uncorked it with his thumb and knocked back his head. He threw the empty bottle back into the tiny bag and returned it to its previous shrunken state around his neck.

Step three complete.

How long would he need to lower the wards, he wondered. Two minutes tops? With gritted teeth he forced himself to wait another minute, before he decided that Prongs must have returned by now if he hadn't been able to relay the message.

The spy was quick and efficient afer all. He should have lowered the shields by now. Turning his back to the opening of the alley, Harry's hand found its way to the coin in his pocket, ignoring the way it nearly burned into his skin.

Breath in. Breath out. Also... _Don't splinch_.

He apparated without a sound.

* * *

Rationally, Frank Longbottom knew that they couldn't have been torturing him more than half an hour, but for him it felt like an eternity already.

_"Where are you hiding the Dark Lord?"_ A sharp voice cut into his brain, demanding to be answered.

The question had gotten old a long time ago.

"He's dead!" He managed to grit out, still gaining a feeling of satisfaction from seeing the man's eyes becoming even more furious behind that ugly mask of his. Frank told himself that the little bit of extra pain was more than worth it.

"Liar!" A woman screeched – he had recognized Bella the moment she had yelled at him – and he was down once again. His whole body shook as he tried to reign in the pain, but he found himself unable to. Vagualy he remembered his conversation with Alice concerning giving birth.

Alice. Oh Alice. He could focus on her.

He tried to roll with the horrible pain. Don't fight it... it will only get worse. He remembered telling Alice the same thing while seeing her giving birth. He should take his own advice. However, he found that he couldn't. He wasn't made to bear children - wait where did that thought come from? That didn't make sense. He was losing it already? Was that his first slip?

Maybe it was. He could hear the screams that fell from his lips, he could feel himself buckle down against the chains in attempt to escape the pain. 'Please stop' His mind started to plead. It nearly slipped from his lips, but he managed to keep it in.

He preferred to go insane than to beg _them_ for anything.

These thoughts reassured Frank that his determination was still strong, but the pain was starting to become unbearable. So much that he barely could think straight. Good. If he couldn't think straight then he wouldn't accidently spill anything important. He just had to keep focusing on one tiny thing.

"Legimancy!"

Keeping those damn walls strong - Frank gritted his teeth as he felt his occlumency walls quiver dangerously.

"Is poor _little_ _Longbottom_ slipping?" Bella sung with glee, her wand out. Yes, that bitch was enjoying this very much. The way her eyes sparkled with glee at the sight of his pain nearly made Frank pity her. As it was, he could only despise her as he panted heavily. His whole body shuddered.

She leveled her wand on him once again – she was ready for the next round.

Frank wasn't and as much as he hated it, Bella was right. He _was_ slipping. He had felt his awareness fall away for a second and it scared him very much.

"Legimancy!"

Once again, Frank blacked out for a moment and his head pounded. How many minutes had passed now? He couldn't be sure. He felt too tired to open his eyes as he listened to their bickering. Was there a way to kill himself? He silently wondered.

"Nothing. He managed to kick me out at the last moment." One of them man growled.

"Don't worry darling, he is slipping alright. It won't take too long. Perhaps we should go after his wife? She always seemed to be the soft one."

Alice.

No.

"You will keep your fucking hands off her!" He growled venomously at them, straining against the chains that kept him in position.

"Oh dear, did you say something wrong?" One of the man mused with glee. Bella laughed with him.

"You still have some fire in you, don't you? Let's see how long it will take for you to beg me to kill you." She said airily as if she were merely teasing him.

As if she wasn't torturing him and threatening his family! Bitch!

Frank's was unable to turn his heated emotions into a sentence. Only a dangerous snarl escaped his throat. Surprisingly, a wave of magic followed, forcing the four people to stumble back slightly.

It only took a second for them to return his favor.

With another round of 'Crucio', Frank slowly felt himself lose the ability to think straight. The next round, his orientation was gone as he suddenly found himself with his face again the cold stone. Frank's mind swirled. He couldn't focus properly. His eyes fell upon the chains on his arms and the blood that slid down his hands. It slipped between his fingers. Slipping.

Just like his thoughts seemed to slip through his fingers.

"I managed to get in for a second but his thoughts are too chaotic. Maybe we should take a break and try again after an hour?"

Alice. He managed to hold onto that thought.

Neville.

He felt himself being dragged up. His head lolled slightly before two icy cold hands pinched his face painfully. He could vaguely recognize Bella's eyes behind the mask. She was talking to him, but he couldn't listen. His mind was too focused on Alice and Neville. He grunted when a slap shook him out of his thoughts, but he still refused to listen as his mind suddenly focused on a nearly painful burning feeling at his heart.

The coin was practically burning in his inner pocket. Wait - what coin?

_Woosh_.

Bella quickly pushed him back against the wall. Frank groaned as his head took a hit and his ears rang. His body quivered from the strain. He wondered how long he would manage to keep this up, before his thoughts slipped again. He couldn't keep track of his thoughts anymore.

That was a bad sign, wasn't it?

"Ssssh!" Bella hissed to everyone. "Someone's here."

"Where?" One of the death eaters scoffed.

"Ssssh!" The woman hushed him with a dangerous look as her wide scanned the room with suspicion.

The open door behind them creaked.

"You are hearing things." The words slipped from his lips before Frank could do anything about it.

"Crucio!"

Frank mentally prepared himself for the next round, but the pain never started. Surprised - and dare he say scared - he flinched as a stone exploded in from of him.

Now all the four death eaters were on guard and circled their target. Wands out in front of them, they glared into the darkness of the empty cell. From the corner of his eyes, Frank saw a shadow form. He must be hallucinating, he thought as it's reaper's form turned to him and seemed to wave.

He blinked and its resemblance was gone.

"Looking for me?" A voice whispered, sounding slightly slurred - or was it a drawl?

The four death eather turned to one of the corners and _attacked. _Curses upon curses rained down. Stones exploded as the colorful lights came in contact with the wall. Debris fell to the ground and they waited edgily until the smoke had dispersed.

Nothing.

"You have all fallen too far into the darkness." A voice, echoed through the cell. It was difficult to tell from where the voice came from.

The group growled and once again moved to attack, these time aiming cutting curses to cover the entire area of the cell. They waited for the sound of pain, for blood or a body to drop, but it seemed that they had -

"Missed again." The voice seemed to mock them.

"Show yourself, coward!" Bella hissed, before she turned around and leveled her wand at Frank once more. "Or he will get it."

There was a long wary silence and Frank's mind absently took comfort in the fact that Bella's hand was trembling slightly. The witch tensed, her knuckles turned white as the man's voice suddenly spoke directly to her.

"You too, _Bella._ But don't worry, I won't deal with you… _Yet._ I have other plans for you."

The door creaked once again. One of the death eaters took a step forward and shot a few nasty curses into the door's direction.

"There!" Bella cried as she thought saw some dust on the floor move and turned her own curses into that direction. The others followed her lead. Every inch from the cell must have been hit with at least one spell - including a few killing curses - and Frank couldn't help but wonder how any one could survive that so easily.

"Wait!" Bella cried out again, putting her hand up in the air. The others followed her order as they listened carefully for any movement.

"Finished?" The dry voice answered their questioning silence.

The death eaters growled in anger and wariness.

"Who the hell are you?"

_"Me?" _His voice dripped with amusment. "Don't you worry about me." The voice chuckled. "Worry about yourself."

Chaos erupted as once again the four death eaters chose a side and attacked. Frank tried to watch as he noticed that two of them went down in the middle of their seemingly one-sided fight, One had his wand snatched right out of his hand before being pushed into the array of spells of his comrade. The other had been so surprised by his actions that he didn't notice the red spell come his way.

Seeing their comrades go down so easily alarmed the other two. They turned their backs to each other to keep their guard up. Unfortunately a spell surprised Bella and she was forced to duck. It missed her by a hair, but her parnter hadn't seen it coming. Bella snarled as she saw her last partner fall down as well. With sense of revenge in mind, she send a cutting hex towards Frank from a close range, whom tensed.

There was no ti-

A pained hiss directly in front of him startled Frank.

"You really shouldn't have done that Bella. Frank, go sleep. It will be alright." The voice growled.

Whatever happened next, Frank wouldn't know as his thoughts seemed to slip away from him and he slept peacefully. His pains momentarily forgotten as he held Alice and Neville in his arms for hours on end.

* * *

_ Knock. Knock._

"James?"

The man in question quickly stepped into the room and turned towards the two women on the bed. Both their eyes were red - Alice's more than Lily's - and their hands turned white as they clenched each others hand in suspense.

"We found Frank... alive." He quickly added with a strained smile. "I will bring you to him."

A strangled and relieved sob escaped from Alice's lips as she quickly stood. She nearly reached James when she turned back to Lily, looking guilty that she nearly forgot one of the little boys that were asleep on her lap.

"Alice, I will keep an eye on Neville." Lily called out to her. "Go."

The woman seemed reluctant for a moment before she nodded. "Thank you. You want me to go to the front yard?"

James nodded as he stepped to the side to let her go through the door at first.

"Are you alright Lil's?" He couldn't help but ask warily.

Ever since the news that she couldn't perform magic - even after many tests, nobody was quite sure what had happened to her core - Lily had been having a very hard time. It worried him to see Lily nearly force herself to accept her... new handicap. At the same time, he was incredibly proud of her that she was taking it so well. Still, he felt like she was pretending to feel better than she actually was.

"Not now, James." Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Right." He agreed, feeling slightly foolish as he quickly turned to follow Alice.

"I will come to pick you up as soon as possible." He promised.

He didn't notice the way that Lily's smile turned a little brighter. She turned back to the children sleeping on the bed. At least, Harry seemed to be asleep. Neville seemed to have awoken and was staring at her with big confused eyes. She smiled at him as she pulled him onto his feet in front of her. His clumpsy legs wobbily supported him as soon as he straightened them.

They were growing so fast.

"See Little Nev, I told you your Daddy would be fine?" Lily assured him.

The baby simply blinked at her.

"D'ddy?

Lily froze. Alice hadn't told her that Neville had spoken yet. Had this been _his first word_? Oh gosh!

With a stern expression, Lily pointed a finger towards the baby on her lap.

"Neville, you are going to listen very carefully to Auntie Lily. I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that alright! Then as soon as your father wakes up and your mother is right next to him, _then_ you can say your first D'ddy word. Do you understand?"

Lily refused to believe that his next giggle sounded like any word at all.

* * *

Harry's point of view might follow later on in the story.

Or does anyone know what happened? ;)

Share your thoughts (reviews) and spread the love (favs)!

Till next time!


	7. Chapter 7 Cooling down

Don't own Harry Potter. Un-betad, therefore read at your own risk.

**Catching Lightning in a Firewhisky Bottle**

by **WriteAlong**

_Chapter 6: Heat_

**. . . . .**

* * *

_Catch lighthing in a bottle - to do the impossible_

* * *

NOTE: I added another ending to the last chapter and took the old one as the first part of this chapter as I wanted to add a little more depth to it- confusing right? Just to make it easy for you guys, I have added the newly made ending of the previous chapter to this chapter, but will remover that later on. I'm horribe. I know.

New ending chapter 6

* * *

Knock. Knock.

"James?"

The man in question quickly stepped into the room and turned towards the two women on the bed. Both their eyes were red - Alice's more than Lily's - and their hands turned white as they clenched each others hand in suspense.

"We found Frank... alive." He quickly added with a strained smile. "I will bring you to him."

A strangled and relieved sob escaped from Alice's lips as she quickly stood. She nearly reached James when she turned back to Lily, looking guilty that she nearly forgot one of the little boys that were asleep on her lap.

"Alice, I will keep an eye on Neville." Lily called out to her. "Go."

The woman seemed reluctant for a moment before she nodded. "Thank you. You want me to go to the front yard?"

James nodded as he stepped to the side to let her go through the door at first.

"Are you alright Lil's?" He couldn't help but ask warily.

Ever since the news that she couldn't perform magic - even after many tests, nobody was quite sure what had happened to her core - Lily had been having a very hard time. It worried him to see Lily nearly force herself to accept her... new handicap. At the same time, he was incredibly proud of her that she was taking it so well. Still, he felt like she was pretending to feel better than she actually was.

"Not now, James." Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Right." He agreed, feeling slightly foolish as he quickly turned to follow Alice.

"I will come to pick you up as soon as possible." He promised.

He didn't notice the way that Lily's smile turned a little brighter. She turned back to the children sleeping on the bed. At least, Harry seemed to be asleep. Neville seemed to have awoken and was staring at her with big confused eyes. She smiled at him as she pulled him onto his feet in front of her. His clumsy wobbly legs supported him as soon as he straightened them.

They were growing so fast.

"See Little Nev, I told you your Daddy would be fine?" Lily assured him.

The baby simply blinked at her.

"D'da?

Lily froze. Alice hadn't told her that Neville had spoken yet. Had this been his first word? Oh gosh!

With a stern expression, Lily pointed a finger towards the baby in front of her.

"Neville, you are going to listen very carefully to Auntie Lily. I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that mumble word that sounded suspiciously like…" She shook her head. "Anyway, as soon as your father wakes up and your mother is right next to him, _then_ you can say your first D'ddy word. Do you understand?"

Lily refused to believe that his next giggle sounded like any word at all.

* * *

Chapter 7: Cooling down

* * *

The surface beneath his boots made loud crunching noises as he trudged through the fresh snow.

Puffs of warm air evaporated in front of his icy nose. He winched as a breeze of particular cold air glided over his face. Shivering in his coat, Dan couldn't help but wonder how the hell the drunk – the particular one that he was looking for - had managed to stay alive until now.

Seeing as they had found Whisky freezing in the snow the first time as well, the whole getting-lost-in-the-bad-weather might as well be a normal occurrence.

Seriously, Whisky needed to be more careful! How the hell did he stay healthy?

The bar owners knees started to feel numb as it started snowing more heavily. He renewed the warming charm on his coat. It didn't help of course, but at least he had tried.

Oh, he was _so_ going to sick Julia on the drunk, he decided as he peered into _another_ alley.

Speaking of the devil… there he finally was.

Dan's frustration made way for concern as he noticed the way the man slumped against the wall.

"Whisky?" He ignored the way that the man seemed to tense slightly at his approaching presence.

"Dan?" Whisky eventually slurred as he peered at him from under his nearly-frozen bangs.

_Sober, _intense – _and oh_ _so wary_ \- green eyes met his own. Dan couldn't help but wonder whether the shiver that ran down his spine was because of the weather or from the fact that those eyes seemed to look right through him.

Dan blinked and the look was gone – replaced by hazy eyes. It had vanished so quickly that it nearly made Dan wonder whether it had been there at all.

"What ya doing here?" Whisky mumbled, momentarily drawing away his attention away from his ponderings. Whisky sighed and rested his head against the wall to look up at him questioningly, as if he wasn't sitting in a thick pack of snow.

He looked tired and now that Dan paid close attention, his voice sounded tired as well. His eyes still looked closed off. Had he imagined that horrible look in the man's eyes seconds ago?

No. Dan decided. He had seen that look too many times not to recognize it. Yet he had never seen it to such extend. The man in front of him was _hurting_.

And by the looks of it, more sober than he had ever seen him before.

"Well, you ran out when you wanted to go to the bathroom and seeing as you didn't come back after four hours, we were kind of worried you see?" The man answered dryly – pushing his observation to the back of his mind for later on.

Julia would be less than pleased to find out that he had let the man freeze simply because he had been taken back by a certain look in his eyes.

It didn't sound like a particular sound excuse.

The drunk stared at him as if he had grown an extra head. Dan couldn't help but feel sad – and dare he say pity - as he took in the surprised expression on the man's face.

"Ya worried f'r me?"

"Yes." Dan confirmed somewhat awkwardly, scratching the stubbles on his cheeks in discomfort. "Anyway, -" He quickly changed the subject and held out his other hand for him to take. "Let's get you out of the cold."

The man's eyes zeroed in on the offered appendage and suddenly Dan felt nervous. Though the man in front of him looked unsteady, he probably was sober enough to stand on his own feet. Human contact – especially by choice – was considered to be a precious show of trust. Especially considering that this man had been hurt badly during the war – of that Dan was certain.

With just a handshake, someone could apparate someone away. He could curse him within a second. He could poison him with an odorless and colorless potion. He could hide something, a weapon, in his sleeve and strike him the moment that he was within reach.

Whisky seemed to realize this as well. His green eyes looked slightly less hazy as they focused on him again before he looked back down.

Even though weeks had passed and Dan had grown fond of the man, it was still the question whether Whisky would return those feelings.

So, Dan waited with an understanding and questioning look in his eyes for Whisky to make up his mind.

Said man hesitated – his hand clenching slightly - before he slowly took Dan's firm hand, only slightly fumbling to reach it. Dan let out a breath that Whisky's grasp was surprisingly steady.

He must really have run out of alcohol? Dan frowned when noticed the way that the man grimaced slightly as he pulled himself up.

"Are you alright?" Dan couldn't help but ask as he moved the man's arm over his shoulder to support him – just to be sure.

The man let him, though he oddly avoided looking at him as he shrugged. "M'fine." He sighed when he noticed the pointed look Dan shot him. "J'st cold.'

The bar owner decided not share that he didn't believe him for a second. If the drunk noticed his disbelief anyway, he didn't comment on it either.

"May I cast some magic to keep us warm and dry?" He asked warily instead. The memory of the last time that he had cast a spell on the man was still too fresh in his mind to try anything else.

"S're. If it mak's ya happy."

Seriously, was the man freezing at all?

With a quick warming and drying charms later, the two trudged back to the Two Broomsticks in an awkward silence. They both ignored the spluttering angry 'Baldy' on their way – though Dan couldn't help but wonder why the man seemed so aggravated with the drunk. The glare that the man was shooting his – dare he say it – friend spoke of a story behind it.

"What did you do to him?" He nudged the drunk, noting that the man was actually quite steady on his feet as well.

His eyes narrowed when he saw Whisky flinch again. "What's wrong."

"N'thing."

Right.

With a sigh, Dan let the matter drop – for now - and caught the man as he suddenly staggered. _Maybe_ he was still slightly drunk after all? Concerning Whisky, it was sometimes so difficult to tell.

Dan sighed in relief as they entered the now closed The Two Broomsticks not much later. The warmth and smells that welcomed him always made him relax ever so slightly.

"Drink?" Whisky asked as Dan settled him into a chair at a table.

"You should go and sleep, Whiskey." Dan admonished as he turned his back to the man to ward the door – as was still his habit after the war. When Dan turned back he couldn't help but stare as the drunk had somehow managed to 'magic' his own liquor into his hands again.

He sighed and decided not to comment on it for now. He probably needed it anyway.

"Why don't you sit down and I will get something to eat for you." He offered instead and wasn't surprised when the tired man nodded gratefully.

He wasn't surprised either that when he returned with the food, Whisky was sound asleep.

"Figures. Just when I wanted to ask for your name." He mused out loud.

Dan took out his wand in order to levitate the man to bed, before he once again remembered the last time he had done that. He winched and decided for another safer approach.

"Accio blanket."

He carefully pulled it over the man's shoulders and put a warming spell on the food. There, his job was done.

He would leave the reprimanding to Julia or Rosmerta – whoever found him first.

As he left the man to his sleep, Dan never saw the small smile on the man's lips. Nor did he notice the green eyes that watched the figure walk up the stairs, before they closed again.

They cared for him?

Harry wasn't quite sure how to feel about that yet.

* * *

"How is he?"

The healer looked up from the readings that she had just recieved and turned towards the anxious woman. Seeing the expression on her face, the woman straightened and glanced towards the man on the bed and sighed.

"He's _stable._ His mind is still whole as well."

The woman visibly relaxed and sat down on one of the chairs as anxious energy left her body.

"But...?" Alice muttered after a moment, knowing that there must be a reason for the other woman to sound so wary, besides the fact that her husband wasn't awake yet.

"His mind appears whole, but it has taken a hit. It will recover fully, but it is best to let the mind rest for a bit. It might take some time for him to wake up. We will keep him asleep until he is ready. I'm sorry Alice, I wish I had better news."

"This is good news." The woman assured her, though her eyes were heavy.

"If that someone hadn't helped him…" She muttered, thinking back to what James had explained to him. That someone was going after the Death Eaters and apparently had gotten air of Frank's situation. Whether is had been about saving Frank or simply to crush the death eaters present, Alice didn't know - and honestly could currently care less about.

"Let's focus on the present." She muttered.

The healer nodded in agreement, even though she had the feeling that Alice had mostly said it for her own sake.

"Go and rest Alice, I will warn you as soon as anything happens."

* * *

"Calm down, Sharon. You shouldn't overdo it."

"But _Grandma_!" The seven-year-old complained as she tugged her mother along. "I feel fine!"

"I know darling, but just be careful alright? You don't want to spend another day in bed because you have gotten too tired, do you?" She smiled warmly at the vibrant child and chuckled as the girl reluctantly complied with a sigh as she slowed down slightly.

"Alright Grandma."The girl agreed reluctantly.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" She questioned her, causing Sharon to shrug awkwardly.

"What if Mr. Whisky already left?" The child muttered worriedly. "Then I can't thank him."

"I'm sure he is there Sharon. I have seen him sleeping this morning, so he should still be there."

Merlin knows what would have happened if Dan hadn't found him again. They hadn't seen him come back that evening and she had barely refrained themselves from going out to search for him herself. She had been very relieved when Dan told him that Whiskey was back.

Dan had seemed disappointed that the girls hadn't been able to reprimand him in the morning. He had somehow managed to get to his bed during the night.

"Grandma, what are you thinking about?" The girl's question broke her out of her thoughts and she realized that they were already in front of the bar.

"Nothing you need to be worried about Sharon, let's say hello to Uncle Dan first and then I will talk to Whisky for a moment alright?"

* * *

Everything had gone according to plan, Harry decided. Well mostly where Bella was concerned.

Still, he felt like he was forgetting something.

So there Harry Potter stood, completely silent, deep in thought as his eyes stared down at the movements on the street. His forehead pasted against the cool glass. So now and then his breath fogged the glass, before evaporating – repeating the cycle.

He was too late to react to the knocking, but he noticed immediately when his door opened. His body tensed, his hand twitched, but he remained still.

It didn't surprise him when Julia's perfume filled the room. The door didn't open completely. He hadn't expected it to do so. Julia was polite when she wasn't too annoyed with him.

"Goodmorning… are you decent?"

He couldn't hold back the snort that escaped from his mouth, which Julia took as an invitation to open the door completely and to step in.

"Hi." She simply said as she took in his silent appearance. "You look…" She couldn't finish her sentence, but he could practically hear her thoughts anyway. He looked worn and _sober._ The wizard knew that she was surprised – it was probably the first time she didn't see him with a bottle filled with some kind of liquor.

"Hi." He muttered, feeling too tired to raise his head from the glass. She didn't seem to mind his somewhat rude gesture. Rosmerta and Dan also seemed to become quite resistant to them. In fact, they were starting to be able to read them… which was, in the past or future – whatever – a sign for him to 'stumble' on.

He didn't feel like moving away from here though.

"Are you alright?" Julia asked carefully not wanting to come across as nosy or rude. He appreciated the gesture and shrugged. How _did_ he feel? He wasn't really sure.

"I'm too sober." He eventually decided to admit out loud.

A small smile ghosted over her face.

"I would like to get to know the sober you." She admitted gently. "If that's too much for you though, I can offer you a drink at the bar? There is someone that really wants to meet you if that is alright with you."

Someone wanted to meet him? Apprehension automatically raised its ugly head and he closed his eyes for a moment to keep his calm. He wasn't on the run anymore, he reminded himself.

After a few moments, he could get his lips to move again. "Who wants to-?"

He didn't finish when he heard the door creak again. Watching the reflection in the window, he saw a small child carefully step into his room towards the mother-figure. He felt his body straighten automatically as he carefully turned around. His eyes met with the wide curious hazel eyes that were locked onto his figure.

Sharon. He remembered his accidental trip to Julia's memories well enough. He swallowed as memories crashed down on him – though these were memories that weren't associated with this girl. They were associated with another girl… his girl… she had… His fist clenched.

He craved the haziness again. Just a tiny swig, he told himself. He tried fighting it, before he felt his magic fluctate with his first wave of emotion. He was too unpredictable, even for himself. That could be dangerous to his visitors.

So, with a heavy sigh Whisky raised his hand. A second later, a familiar bottle flew into his grasp. He made a move to take a swig, but a hand gently grasped his wrist. He barely kept himself in check. He was a second away from hitting her. Looking into her eyes, he guessed that Julia knew that very well.

Still, she was able to remain calm as she spoke towards the little girl.

"Sharon honey, I told you to wait." She reprimanded the girl, who twitched guiltily. "Why don't you tell Uncle Dan about school for a moment? We will be down in a few minutes alright?" She said pleasantly.

The child looked quite skeptical, but the pointed look that her grandmother shot over her shoulder made her think twice of arguing.

"Fine."

The moment the girl was out of the door, her demeanor changed into a worried one. "What happened Whisky?"

She was too close and still touching him. Restraining his arm.

"Don't _touch_ me." A dark mutter escaped him and he looked away from her surprised gaze. "I'm fine. Just… give me a moment." He gruttend as he tried to calm his magic.

She let him go without a second thought, though she stubbornly kept a hand on the bottle. He let her and turned back to his previous position, eyes closed.

The drunk turned his head against the glass, peering at her.

"You're bleeding!" The woman suddenly cried out.

He tensed. "I'm not?" He lied.

"Let me see."

"Its nothing."

"Then show me..."

Damn it!

* * *

Damn it!

He hated the feeling of being watched…

Though he had to admit that having the feeling didn't always necessarily mean that he _was_ being watched. Nor did not feeling like he was being observed mean that he wasn't being observed.

Whoever this guy was… he couldn't be quite sure until he announced himself.

"Good job with the wards." A soft voice echoed through the dark cold room.

At the sound, a lone figure swirled around to face the empty room behind him. His dark eyes flickered warily from side to side in search of his visitor. The tenseness in his shoulder relaxed ever so slightly as he recognized the voice and his hand fell away from his wand. He turned back around.

"You are not here to congratulate me." The man accused the presence.

"That's partly true." The presence admitted easily. His voice was difficult to pinpoint, which annoyed him greatly. The wizard had difficulty trying to suppress his urge to force him to become visible. The first time he had tried though… He wouldn't try again without good reason.

This man was dangerous.

"Are you alright?" The voice spoke again – _too genuine_ Severus Snape decided.

The idea that his answer would matter, made Severus feel nauseas. He – whoever he was - was just another player of the game. Severus was just another pawn. He couldn't believe that anyone would _really care._

The only reason that he was here was that this person seemed to really want to protect the enemies of his enemy Voldemort – and therefor Lily would be protected.

Even Albus had failed protecting her like this mysterious invisible figure had.

"What do you want me to do?" Snape whispered, watching the snow fall from the sky. He absently noted that even the reflection of the room didn't show him anything. That limited at least a couple of tricks of invisibility. He would have to research more thoroughly, he realized.

"Voldemort is not dead."

The dark wizard tensed as he heard _his_ name being spoken, before the message itself registered.

_Not_ dead.

Absently he noted that he hadn't used the words 'Voldemort is still alive', but his thoughts focused on the presence's implications instead. So, there was still danger…

He silently gritted his teeth, feeling like he should rebuke the statement somehow. He wanted to. He wanted this chapter of his life to be over with and never look back. He wanted to tell the man to stop lying to him, but in the end, the ex-Death Eater didn't comment.

He sighed.

"You already suspected. You just don't want to admit it." The man's voice continued softly, making Severus momentarily wonder whether he could read his thoughts as well.

Instead he pushed away from the window and headed towards the door. "I want out. I never meant to hurt her."

"He will go after _them_ again." The voice came _from right in front of him_.

Wand - his hand twitched in reflex before he lowered it again. He glared as he could practically imagine the amusement that his reflex had caused. Instead, the presence's voice sounded very serious as he asked him his question.

"Where do you _want_ to be when it happens?"

Had he not been surprised by the sudden close confrontation, he would have been surprised now as he realized what he had just been asked. For once, his mask fell away and his surprise showed on his face.

Where did Severus _want to be_?

"Yes. What do you want?"

Had he muttered that out loud? Slightly irritated at his own blunder, the wizard crossed his arms and looked down, his face emotionless once more.

"You are taking me for a fool."

The chuckles took him off guard. "Oh no, Snape. You may have made many foolish mistakes – foolish indeed - but you are not fooling me. You are no fool."

His eyes shut in an unconscious attempt to flee from the confronting words. A tiny part of him – one that Snape had desperately pushed away to the back of his mind - felt glad for the reassurance that the voice provided.

"So Snape… I have told you last time what _I want_, but what do you want?"

There was a long pause as the man pondered about the question that seemed so alien to him.

After minutes passed, Severus absently wondered whether the presence was still there when he answered. Once it came however, his words were filled with determination and - dare he say it – hope. His dark eyes shone with a light that hadn't been in them for many years.

"I want to be my own man." He stated, somehow knowing that the presence was right in front of him – listening.

Smiling sadly.

* * *

_What would you choose? _

_Ever faced a difficult decision yourself?_

_l'm curious._


	8. Chapter 8 Strike

Don't own Harry Potter. Un-betad, therefore read at your own risk.

**Catching Lightning in a Firewhisky Bottle**

by **WriteAlong**

_Chapter 8: Strike_

**. . . . .**

* * *

_Catch lighthing in a bottle - to do the impossible_

* * *

Whisky ignored the burning feeling of the pair of – probably concerned - eyes watching him.

"Julia doesn't seem very happy with you." Dan said, stating the obvious as he closed the door for the night. He returned to the bar to hide the key, not seeming to care at all that the man in front of him might watch him as he stowed it away.

As it was, the man barely looked into his direction. Instead, Whisky grunted at him and took another tiny swig of his drink.

"I'm f'ne." He muttered under his breath.

"You were bleeding a few days ago?" Dan asked. Though the way he said it, made it sound less like a question and more like a statement.

Whisky ignored said statement.

"If something happened that bothers you, you can always tell us." Dan offered reluctantly, noticing how the man seemed to tense the longer they were on the subject.

Dan decided that he missed the cheery drunk that he had come to know. Instead, the man in front of him looked like he barely slept and had been staring at his drink for hours on end – ignoring everyone around him.

"Thanks." Whisky eventually answered him but didn't offer any information in return.

Dan sighed and shook his head, wondering what kind of hurtful things he might have told Julia in an attempt to get her to back off. She had refused to repeat any of it and he was sure that Whisky wouldn't like to repeat them either.

Pondering how he could help them solve this, he turned away and was about to leave before Dan noticed the movement from his left.

Rosmerta, who had probably been eavesdropping, approached oddly calmly. Her eyes told a whole other story though, which was confirmed as she slammed her hands on the bar right in front of Whisky, making him jump up. The woman didn't seem to care for his nearly aggressive reflex and glared at him as she leaned over the bar.

"You are acting like a _prat_." She hissed at him. "Stop being such a gloomy miserable and angst-y bastard and live a little! Julia just wanted to help! You don't have to tell anything about how you got blood on your clothes! Just don't push us away when we simply worry about you!"

"Rosmerta!" Dan cut her off as she opened her mouth to continue. "That's enough."

The woman didn't seem to agree.

"What, he has been acting like a prat for the past days! He scares Sharon when she tries to approach him! He made her cry today because he wouldn't even cast her one look when she wanted to thank him - no matter how scared she was. I know he must have his reasons to be down sometimes, but to suddenly ignore us just because someone saw something you don't want to talk about! I don't care how you got it, whether you did it yourself or that you got into a fight! It's the fact that you might be hurt! Do you think that this makes us think differently of you? The night that you came here, Dan already saw your scars alright? "

Whisky twitched at the mention of that particular night.

"That's enough Rose!" Dan barked, pulling her back from the man. "Don't take out your frustrations on Whisky just because you feel hurt that he might not trust us."

Rosmerta turned to him with wide eyes. "That's not what-"

A chair was pushed back so softly that neither of them noticed.

"Isn't it? Or is this because you are upset that he upset Julia?" He pushed and the girl's cheek turned red in embarrassment. "While it's a nice gesture that you want to defend her, it's not right to do that by offending someone."

"I- I'm sorry." She said, realizing that her frustration had gotten the better of her. "Whisky, I didn't mean to-" She stopped and looked around.

Dan, following her surprised gaze, shared her surprise when the stool in front of them was empty. The front door however, stood once again wide open.

"Oh gosh! I'm so sorry! Did I chase him away?" Rosmerta cried as she covered her mouth. "I shouldn't have said that. I was just so frustrated and – I'm so stupid!"

Dan tugged the distraught girl into a gentle hug, as he thoughtfully stared at the keys that were still where he had put them away.

He had closed the door right?

"Calm down, Rose. I'm sure it will be fine."

He hoped.

* * *

Harry had apparated as soon as he exited the Two Broomsticks. He wasn't surprised to find himself a roof of a cottage in Godric's Hollow. It had been the only place he could think off the momentarily clear his head.

Still, Harry couldn't completely disregard Rosmerta's words and that bothered the wizard.

So, under the bright light of the moon, Harry contemplated the possible truths that Rosmerta had told him. He hadn't even noticed that he had started to push them away.

But he had started to… hadn't he?

And just because Julia had seen a bit of blood on his clothes. She hadn't even seen his wound, he reminded himself. He had hidden that as soon as she tried to look.

_"You aren't hurt?"_ He remembered her saying as she had somehow managed to push up his shirt to get a better look at the having-been-hidden-by-wandless-magic-seconds-ago wound.

_"It's n'thing, I told ya! Now go away!"_ He had rudely pointed her to the door.

'I have horrible coping styles.' Harry finally admitted to himself with a sigh.

He would try to forget, which he could accept seeing as there were a few things that he really didn't want to remember. He would push away everything and anyone that could possibly cause extra attention on _Harry Potter – _which he wasn't anymore. And now suddenly even attention on Whisky seemed too close for comfort.

He could have resolved everything with a simple lie, but instead he had automatically closed himself off like before – as soon as anybody started asking questions.

He might need to work on that. Voldemort was gone for the moment. His future archenemy – his stomach turned at the thought– wasn't even there yet. So many years before him to wait and…

What else would he do?

Was there anywhere else he wanted to go to?

He would need to_ pull his head out of his ass_, he told himself. Harry might not like the idea of people possibly finding out a few hints that he wasn't what tried to show, but he knew himself well enough that he wouldn't be able to live without a few people around him. He needed distractions.

Harry paused when he recognized a house nearby. On the opposite side of the street Harry looked at his parent's house where Voldemort had been 'vanquished' weeks ago.

It place had always felt alienated to him before, but now, it was even worse.

When the building had come in sight, Harry had nearly expected it to be the ruins that it had been the last time he had seen them. However, the Potter's seemed to have repaired the damage done to the house. As the wizard spread his senses to get a feel of the magic present, he found that the wards were still up.

They probably had another secret keeper this time.

A dark look passed his face as he remembered the rat that he was still searching for. He would have to put a bit more effort in that. That would be a nice distraction wouldn't it?

He stood there for a moment, feeling somewhat awkward that he had felt the need to check on his parents. It wasn't as if they couldn't take care of themselves. Hell, they didn't even know who he was. Being here was ridiculous.

Still, as soon as he spotted his mother through one of the windows, Harry found himself unable to leave.

Through the window of the kitchen, he watched as Lily started cooking what seemed to be a late dinner. He had heard stories about how she had always liked to cook the muggle way. Sirius had told him he had laughed at her until she had let him taste her food and he had shut up soon afterwards.

He hesitated for a moment before he slowly sat down on the roof, making sure that the cloak still covered him properly as he did. He felt a bit odd secretly spying on his mother, but smiled when he saw her form slowly relax as she worked. As she absently looked out of the window, he momentarily enjoyed the thought that they eyes had met for a moment.

'I'm being ridiculous.' He told himself again, but stayed put anyway.

A cold breeze caught him from behind and he automatically turned to watch the shadows that were formed by the clouds on his right turn into a familiar shape.

"Hello Death." He greeted the presence. "Have you come to take a certain piece of soul in my head along with you when you leave again?"

The shadow _twitched_.

"I still take that as a no again." Harry decided, before he regarded the surprisingly detailed shadow next to him. He smiled slightly as he saw Death creep closer, a spidery hand reaching out for him.

Harry touched the tiles right next to him and smiled as the shadow seemed to touch his skin for a moment before it retreated again. It was a gesture that Harry recognized.

"So you are not directly influenced by Time itself?" The wizard mused out loud, his green eyes puzzled.

"Or have you followed me to the past? No matter, you won't tell me your secrets anyway." He rolled his eyes.

The shadow didn't show a smile but he could practically feel the amusement oozing from his face.

"What happened to the future?" Harry couldn't help but ask out loud, ignoring the way his heartrate sped up. Death never really spoke to him directly, but he had a way of giving hints and answers when he really needed it before.

The shadow's bony claw pointed to the hand still on the icy tiles of the roof.

Harry lifted it and looked at his empty hand. The shadows hand seemed to close before opening again. Harry took the hint and copied him. He felt a weight appear in his hand and didn't need to see it to know what it was.

As he opens his hand, the familiar stone felt strangely heavy.

"No matter how many times I throw this away, you always bring it back to me." He muttered as he closed his eyes. Harry had used it a few times before. Being the master of Death had a few perks. In the horrible far future, it had allowed him to say goodbye to people that he hadn't been able to say goodbye to.

The story about the curse of the stone had always been in the back of his mind though. Those that had passed to the other side couldn't find peace here. Ginny had been forced to remind him of this a few times, but he had always relinquished to her wishes. He never wanted to see her unhappy.

Though he was always forced himself to throw away the stone, or he wouldn't be able to control himself.

Only in the heaviest time, would he call her again and she would gladly answer. Somehow, Death seemed to know when to return it to him.

Harry grimaced before he closed his eyes.

"Ginny?" He called gently, clenching his hand around the stone.

Would she still be there? He swallowed heavily when no one appeared in front of him. Of course. Her younger self was alive… did this mean that all things future had been wiped out? The idea made him feel nauseous.

"Harry?"

A soft hollow voice sounded from behind.

He swirled around and let out a sob of relief. "Oh Gin. I miss you."

She _was there_, but something was not right. She looked too translucent, too wispy… too vague. As if she could disappear any second. A sense of foreboding hit Harry, something was wrong.

"I can't stay long. I will disappear." She confirmed him vaguely. "The pull is not strong enough."

"The fact that _you_ are in front of me… I think the timeline split, when I appeared back here." Harry muttered.

"I think you won't be able to call me again. The… distance will be too far?" Gin told him sadly. His expression twisted before he simply looked at her, trying to enjoy every second of seeing her face.

"I miss you."

Ginny smiled sadly as she crouched in front of him.

"Oh Harry, I'm sure you will be able to see me again when you pass on. Don't worry." Her hand reached for his face. He wished he could feel her touch, but there was nothing.

It still hurt.

There was a short pause, before Ginny continued. "I will still be watching you of course. I have been until now and I will do so as long as possible. I'm so proud of you what you did for your parents." She reassured him before an odd but determined look appeared on her face. "But Harry, please, _live_."

"It hurts." Harry admitted for probably the first time.

"Oh Harry." Ginny swallowed. "It was not your fault. I'm not angry. Nobody is angry with you."

"_I_ am angry with myself." Harry protested and Ginny let out a giggle that seemed so out of place, but it was somehow so comforting that she could laugh about it that it made Harry smile as well.

"Well, that's you being you." Ginny managed to tease him, despite the situation. "But seriously Harry, playing the drunk is nice and all, but you are starting to become the drunk. So, pull your head out of your ass, you hear me?" She pointed her finger at him and Harry grunted, though the corner of his lips twisted upwards.

It was not the first time she had said those words to him.

His amusement disappeared when she suddenly started to fade.

"Ginny." He muttered mournfully.

"I don't want any brooding. Ya hear me Mr. Potter!" She glared at him. "You have no choice but to enjoy an extra-long life seeing as you just had to get all the three hollows in you possession." Harry didn't even bother to start their usual joking discussion about the fact that it hadn't been his intention – thank you very much - seeing as there was so little time left.

Her eyes narrowed at him, giving him the look that demanded Harry to pay attention to her words. He gave it to her.

"And now listen very carefully to me, if you find someone you would like to spend the rest of your life more intimately with someone, do so. I don't mind Harry. You deserve it."

"I love _you_." He reassured her, suddenly feeling confused by her words. "I don't want someone else."

"I know you will always love me. That's why I'm fine with you possibly loving someone else as well. Become happy Harry." She assured him. "I love you to-"

He opened his mouth to say something else, but she had aleady disappeared.

The shadow of Death drew away gently, letting the man next to him have a moment of peace. Harry didn't cry. Despite the fact that his lips pursed together in attempt to control his emotions, Harry forced himself to smile.

A sound distracted him from his empty thoughts. His eyes turned towards the Potter's front lawn, where two familiar figures were welcomed by Lily into their house.

Latching onto the first opportunity to distract himself, he allowed curiosity to rise. What were those visitors doing there? Were they going to check on Lily's magic?

Harry stood.

* * *

Albus sighed as he lowered his wand, before he sat down on one of the comfortable chairs in the Potter's living room.

Pomfrey shook her head as she lowered her wand as well. "It's of no use."

James looked at her sharply.

"I still can't retrieve the memory." Albus explained. "Your magical levels are currently so low that they are still too vulnerable.

Pomfrey quickly continued as she noticed the look in Lily's eyes. "It's not a bad as it was just after the…" She paused for a moment before continuing. "- the incident, mind you, but recovery seems to be even slower than we hoped it would."

Albus nodded somberly. "It will probably recover in the future, but for now, I don't want to disrupt anything. Maybe in a couple of months, we can try again."

Lily nodded, as though she had expected as much, while James looked disgruntled by the confirmation that Lily was nowhere near recovery.

"At least, there is a chance that I can do magic again in the future." Lily muttered hopefully as she took James's hand in a comforting gesture.

Whether it was for her own comfort or for James, Albus wasn't sure.

"I had hoped I would have had better news." Pomfrey apologized. "At least, there is hope." She pointed out with a small smile."

Lily smiled back, looking reassured by the woman's words.

The heavy atmosphere seemed to become a little lighter. That was, until Albus suddenly turned rather abruptly towards a corner of the room. His eyes squinted warily and left his chair to walk up to the corner of the living room that had somehow caught his attention.

"What's wrong?" James asked, following his movement.

Albus didn't answer him right away and the others followed his movements warily as he pulled out his wand and cast several spells. It took a few moments before he finally put his wand away. Lily noticed the way he took a moment to study his own wand, as if something was wrong with it.

"Forgive me. With my age, I sometimes still have moments of paranoia." Albus pushed aside after he took one last glance about, before he settled back into the chair.

The three others took in his relaxed pose and let it slide and settled down themselves. The comfortable atmosphere had yet to return though.

No one noticed the other presence present right next to the fireplace, who mentally released a small breath of relief from under the invisible cloak he was wearing. He knew that even Dumbledore shouldn't be able to find him, but somehow the man had always seemed to have a knack for surprising people.

"Now, how about a cup of tea?"

Harry turned around with a thoughtful look on his face, before he slipped away.

* * *

"Ahhh!" A scream filled the cellar. "_Whisky_!"

A green eye piered open, as if she hadn't woken him at all. "What's wr'ng?"

Rosmerta put a hand on her chest, her other hand on the side of the entrance and slowly breathed out to calm herself. She shook slightly as she tried to find the words.

"You! I-I just didn't expect anyone to… sleep here. I thought you might have left." She managed to say before she sat down on one of the barrels that apparently seemed part of some weird construction that resembled some kind of bed.

It didn't look very comfortable.

Whisky didn't seem to be bothered by it as he stretched out groggily.

"Didn't feel like going to mah room y'sterday." He simply stated with a shrug. He picked up a bottle that stood on another barrel that seemed to function as a nightstand. Rosmerta couldn't help but notice that it was still nearly full.

He sounded more sober than normal.

Yet…

"I'm sorry about yesterday." She forced herself to say before she felt too awkward to start.

Whisky frowned thoughtfully at her as if contemplating her words. She felt oddly nervous before he – of course - had to ruin her apology by being typically Whisky.

"What d'd ya ex'ctly say again?"

Rosmerta half-heartedly glared at him. The man simply shrugged helplessly.

"Y'a was probably r'ght anway." He offered, which actually did make Rosmerta feel slightly less guilty.

They didn't get the chance to continue the conversation as they were both surprised when suddenly Dan – whom probably had come running as soon as he heard the scream - nearly jumped down the stairs and flung his wand into the direction of Whisky as he pulled Rosmerta behind him.

It took him a moment to realise why Whisky seemed so familiar.

He didn't get the chance to directly aim his wand at Whisky though. Rosmerta watched as the man's eyes widened a second before he mysteriously pulled another of his acrobatic moves – swirling around them using one of the barrels while slipping right between the two of them – and fled upstairs, leaving the two people gaping behind him.

"What ha- wait. Was that Whisky?"

"Y-yes." Rosmerta confirmed.

Dan winched as he realised that he had nearly attacked the man and in the process probably scared him by the looks of how fast he had fled. He might have to apologize for that. But first…

"Where did he come from?" He asked the woman whom was studying the oddly piled barrels in the basement. He hadn't seen Whisky come back.

"He was sleeping here. It seems he slipped downstairs yesterday evening." Rosmerta told him as she gestured to Whisky's make-shift bed.

That confused Dan only even more. "But the front door was open. I had locked it." He pointed out. Rosmerta shrugged at him.

"The wind might have blown it open if it hadn't been closed properly?"

"I'm pretty sure that I had the keys in my hands."

"But did you lock it?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

Dan frowned. "I-I guess not?" – how else could he explain the open door?

Rosmerta smiled at him and patted his shoulder is what was obviously meant to be comforting. "Don't worry Dan. You _are_ getting a little older so there is no shame in forgetting something."

"Hey! Now wait a minute!"

* * *

"I'm s'rry, Sharon. I have been a l'ttle grumpy, haven't I? I didn't mean to scare you."

Whisky crouched in front of the child who seemed to contemplate her words very carefully. She glanced towards her grandmother who seemed to smile despite the fact that had not been very happy with Mr. Whisky. In fact -

"Well, I know Grandma can be very grumpy sometimes." Sharon nodded warily as if that explained everything. It must be an adult thing.

"Sharon!"

"What?! It's true! You were yesterday!" Sharon protested.

Whisky let out an amused snort. "So am I forgiven?"

"Well…I just wanted to thank you." The girl seemed still reluctant, not knowing whether the man whom had probably saved her even liked her.

"How 'bout we go g't some icecream to m'ke us al feel better and then ya can think 'bout it?" Whisky proposed, earning a brilliant smile in return. Julia let out a sigh and shook her head, but her eyes showed her amusement.

"I want Sparkling Strawberry!"

"Sure."

That seemed to settle it as everything seemed to be forgiven and forgotten.

* * *

Oh gosh. I stayed nearly up all night and wrote it in one go. I'm so freaking tired right now.

In return, please share your thoughts with me!

Also, if you _spot (spelling/grammar) mistakes_, please help me and tell me. I will happily fix them.

Being sleep deprived makes it difficult to try and think of the weirdest magical ice cream that might be available... Anyone got anything better? I might change is.

Going to sleep now.


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